Star Trek: Warlord, The Straw part 2
by Morphere
Summary: A continuation of The Straw. This story is now complete... please read and comment! Stay tuned for the next story: Obstacles.
1. Chapter 2

Doctor Rass paced impatiently across his office. The continually flashing red light was enough to drive anyone crazy, but the siren was just intolerable. Not knowing what was going on simply made matters worse. Eventually, the person he had been trying to contact popped across his comm badge. "What is it, Doctor? I'm kind of busy right now." Commander Kirk's voice sounded impatient as well.

"Well, a little information would be nice," Dorrin replied sarcastically. "Unless you want me spending more time sitting next to you on the bridge, you might want to throw an update or two down here."

Doctor Rass could hear the commander take a deep breath before responding. "You're right," Stephen admitted slowly. "We've got two Jem'Hadar loose on the ship and two dead crewmen. I presume you heard the order to lock down your door."

Doctor Rass blinked several times, then looked at the large, slotted, wooden doors to his sickbay... unlocked. Being on Bajor during the Dominion War had prevented him from seeing an actual Jem'Hadar. The images he had seen made him thankful the Cardassians had been occupying Deep Space Nine again. Remembering the studies he had read of the Jem'Hadar anatomy were morbidly intriguing. Their anatomy was frighteningly simple, complete with redundant organs, oversized skeletal structure, and dense-fibered muscle tissue... a marvel of genetic engineering. "Oh, my," he said quietly. "I heard the order, but assumed it didn't apply to me, since I really need to be available in the event of an emergency."

Stephen's voice became grave. "Doctor, lock your door. If your services are required, we'll either site-to-site you to them, or them to you. One of them is injured. He may be heading your way."

Dorrin looked back ominously at the still-closed doors. "How could he possibly know where sickbay is? It's not like he can ask the computer."

"We have reason to believe he has a tricorder. If he knows how to use it, it would lead him straight to you. Lock the door, Doctor. I'll be in touch. Kirk out."

Rass looked nervously at the door and gulped. He was a doctor, not a soldier, for crying out loud. He cursed himself for not just listening to the order. His feet felt as though there were large weights attached as he inched closer to the door, then froze in his tracks as the doors slid opened and closed with no one there.

Dorrin stood shaking. "He's in here," he thought, "and he's cloaked... another marvel of genetic engineering." He stood there for what seemed an eternity, waiting for the Jem'Hadar to make a move... wondering if he had just imagined everything and should lock the door. As if on queue, a single drop of gray liquid suddenly appeared in mid air and fell to the floor, landing with a quiet splat. "By the prophets, he IS in here," he thought. A myriad of throughts ran through his head. There was a phaser in one of the cabinets in the treatment room, but he'd never get to it. There was plenty of anesthazine in the recovery room, which was closer, but he'd need to load that up into a hypospray. Perhaps he could just flood the entire room with anesthazine, but then he'd have to figure a way to run that cursed EMH program.

Perhaps just talking would calm the creature down. Dorrin cleared his throat and did his best to stand up straight and look calm. "I know you're in here," he said aloud, "and I know you're injured." He took a deep breath. "I can help you."

"Why would you help me?" A gruff, low, disembodied voice asked. Judging from where the voice originated, Dorrin guessed the creature was slightly taller than a human.

"I'm a doctor. It's what I do." Rass replied, offering his hands up in a manner of surrender.

"On my home, we have no doctors." The voice commented dejectedly.

"Well, you're a long way from home, aren't you?" Perhaps there was a way Dorrin could gain this soldier's trust. A living ally was certainly more valuable than a dead enemy, after all.

"I am dead." The gravelly voice said grimly. "I go into battle to reclaim my life. Victory is life."

"Then... why have you come to sickbay?" Dorrin was hoping the Jem'Hadar was questioning his values... possibly looking for a way to heal himself.

"I am looking for something I could use as a poison to disperse through the air. Most doors are locked, but the ventilation system is still operational."

Dorrin's hopes deflated. "I see." He said finally. "Then what do you want with me?"

"You're going to help me." With that, and an accompanying crash, the controls to the door were smashed.

Well, that certainly wasn't the answer Dorrin wanted to hear. He considered his options. None of them seemed too pleasant. Then, he remembered a hypospray of asinolyathin he had sitting on his lab table in the recovery room. He was going to administer a small dosage to Ensign Nereya for her muscle spasms, but there was a full vial in the spray. With that much muscle relaxant in the Jem'Hadar, Dorrin might have a fighting chance. It was the only option he could think of. If the soldier was still still by the front door, that might be the head start the doctor needed to get to the next room. That was his move, he decided. Nodding, he said, "I see... well, in that case..." he broke into a run to the next room.

With a loud "Oof!" Dorrin found himself face down, tackled on the floor with an impressive weight on his back. As he struggled to turn over, he saw the form of the tall Jem'Hadar soldier appear before him as it dropped its cloaking shroud. His face was gray, long and thin with several bony spikes along the edge of his face. Its eyes were blood red. Now, Dorrin could see the extent of the soldier's injury. His right arm had been completely, but roughly cut at the shoulder. Dorrin could make out one other feature that terrified him. In the Jem'Hadar's left hand was a long, serrated, bloody knife. The soldier raised himself off the doctor and drew the blade upwards, intending to bring it down on the doctor, a look of rage in his eyes.

Instinctively, Dorrin raised his arms and grappled with the tall soldier's arm as it swung down. The doctor allowed himself a moment to be impressed with the Jem'Hadar's strength. Despite the fact Dorrin was holding the soldier's arm with both of his and the obvious blood loss that had taken place from the wound, the blade was still slowly descending towards Dorrin's face. The Jem'Hadar spread his legs father apart to gain a better balance. Dorrin took the opportunity to move one of his own legs between the Jem'Hadar's. Kicking upwards, he struck between the soldiers legs as hard as he could. The Jem'Hadar merely laughed and drove the blade closer.

"Damn!" Dorrin cried out. Jem'Hadar were androgynous and had no genitalia. He was growing more desperate as the blade drew ever closer to his head. "Engage EMH!" He yelled.

A tall, thin human with angular facial features appeared behind the Jem'Hadar with short, brown, curly hair. "Thank you for invoking the Emergency Medical..." Startled, the Jem'Hadar spun around to see the new presence behind him. Quickly discerning it was another human, he quickly jumped off the doctor and lunged at the human. The startled holographic doctor instinctively braced himself for the impact that never occured. The Jem'Hadar flew through the hologram and into the wall near the archway to the nurse's office as the hologram phased himself from his tactile mode.

Seizing the opportunity, the doctor lunged himself for the hypospray on the small table. The table fell over as the doctor savagely grabbed for all the tools he could find. The hypospray, and several other objects, clattered to the floor. Dorrin dropped to his knees and picked up the device.

"Good heavens!" The hologram proclaimed. "What's going on here?"

A frustrated Dorrin pointed to the recovering Jem'Hadar. "Restrain him!" He cried.

Still confused, the EMH phased back into tactile mode and reached for the one-armed soldier's shoulders as he turned around. Finally having something to grasp, the Jem'Hadar backhanded the EMH, sending him careening into the connecting wall. The Jem'Hadar took two more steps towards the doctor when the EMH grabbed him again. The EMH locked his arms around the Jem'Hadar, pinning his one arm down. "I should inform you, as a hologram I don't feel pain." The Jem'Hadar roared in anger and frustration.

That was the opportunity Dorrin wanted. Still on his knees, he used his feet to launch himself at the momentarily incapacitated enemy. His body painfully contacted the Jem'Hadar at his thighs. The force of the impact knocked the soldier off balance, sending him backwards back to the wall. Hitting his head against the wall, he slumped towards the floor. Doctor Rass thrust the hypospray at the Jem'Hadar's left leg and injected the full vial as the EMH scrambled out from underneath the fallen warrior.

Within moments, the Jem'Hadar was moving again. He lashed out wildly with his knife, slicing across Dorrin's stomach and into the EMH, who simply phased himself out again. The pain of the knife wound dropped the doctor to the floor and made it difficult for him to breathe. He looked down at the large tear in his labcoat coated in red. Barely discernable in the background was the sound of pounding on the main door in the next room.

The Jem'Hadar took the opportunity to make another attack at the doctor. As he got to his knees, his left leg gave out causing him to fall back to the floor. He used his one good arm to roll with the fall.

"I'll get a regenerator for your wound," the EMH commented.

"Idiot!" Dorrin cried out breathlessly. "Get HIM!" He pointed to the falled Jem'Hadar, who was working his way back up.

The EMH shrugged his shoulders and jumped on top of the recovering soldier with a loud "Hiya!" The extra weight threw the enemy off balance once again. He found himself back one the floor, prone. With a loud roar, the Jem'Hadar grabbed the EMH by the neck and threw him into a bed, knocking it over. As he tried to stand up on his right leg, an explosion shook the room, causing the Gem'Hadar to stagger once again. 

The Jem'Hadar turned around as voices could be heard in the next room. "Move it! Go! Go! Go! Surround the door!" The voices shouted. It was then that the Jem'Hadar realized he was missing his knife. 

As he searched the floor frantically for it, the EMH cleared his throat. The Jem'Hadar looked over to the overturned bed to see the EMH leaning on it from the other side, holding the knife. "Are you looking for this?" he asked in a sing-song voice. The Jem'Hadar let out an incensed growl and charged at the EMH.

Two bolts of energy flew from the entryway into the Jem'Hadar's back creating two large burn marks. The tall, gray warrior fell over the overturned bed with a thud. Three Marines walked into the recovery room. One tapped his comm badge. "Captain... one down." 


	2. Chapter 4

With the Marines combing the various floors looking for the remaining Jem'Hadar, deck six was virtually uninhabited. The thick, interlocking doors of the hangar bay slid open with a low rumble. Instantly, the hallway was filled with the sounds of musical instruments being twisted and bent, the sounds being warped and perverted. Melodic screaming partly drowned out the instrumentation. The intruder, still invisible, had a difficult time concentrating enough to maintain the shroud. The sound made his ears hurt. Still, he would not be denied this opportunity to destroy the enemy ship he was aboard. His opportunity was right in front of him.

Inside the hangar deck dim overhead lights and pulsating red alarm lights illuminated the fronts of two long, sleek vessels. The fronts of the ships were rounded and aerodynamic, as though meant for in-atomosphere travel as well as space travel. Two triangular windows dominated the nose. Walking around to the side of one ship, he saw the words 'USS Sting Ray' written along the silvery tube-like hull. The starboard nacell appeared to have suffered damage at some point. There was blast damage all along the right side and the arm where the nacell should have been was bare. Luckily, the hatch was open, though the noise was becoming unbearable. Figuring he had gone as far as he could, the Jem'Hadar soldier dropped his shroud, becoming visible. Hopefully, he'd be able to overload both anti-matter reactors before anyone appeared. Quickly, he headed for the open hatch.

His appearance did not go unnoticed.

Working happily atop the Sting Ray, Lieutenant Box failed to lock the doors to the launch bay. He had been in the middle of rewiring the starboard shield emitter when the warning was announced. He couldn't do anything at the time of the warning, and since then it simply slipped his mind. The human sized crystaline spider continued working and listening to klingon opera, oblivious to any potential danger... until one of his eight eyes noticed the hangar door open and close with nothing there. Instantly, Box stopped working and centered as many eyes as he could focus on the hangar, keeping as low a profile as his bulbous body would let him. "Rats!" he thought. "I should have locked the doors." If he attempted to use his communicator, it would be useless with the music playing. If he stopped the music, he would give himself away. Unfortunately, the nearest phaser was inside the ship he was working on. If he tried to escape, he would be instantly noticed. Regretfully, the Hamalki was known throughout the alpha quadrant as scientists and engineers, not fighters.

Box's thoughts began to wander as he continued frantically looking for some kind of movement... something that would give away the intruder's position. What was the Jem'Hadar doing here? Was he looking for a way to escape? Was he looking for a weapon? A hostage? What could he possibly want in a hangar deck? He wished T'Nia or Stephen was there. They were much more well known for their 'creative thinking'. Then, the Jem'Hadar appeared, right in front of the very ship Box was working on. He had left the hatch open so he could hear the music! Frustrated with a profound lack of intelligent ideas, he shook his head.

When the Jem'Hadar made a run for the open hatch, Box panicked. Because the Hamalki have no larynx as humanoids do, they use their limited shapeshifting abilities to 'create' vocal chords within their bodies. Then, creating gaps within their semi-transparent bodies, they pull in air, then push it through the makeshift vocal chords to create sounds. The result is an airy, but normally soft voice. The Hamalki mouth is generally used just for eating, however, in times of distress, they are capable of pushing air back through their throats. The result is a mind numbingly loud, high pitched scream. This was the sound Box instinctively created in his panic. Not surprisingly, it completely drowned out the klingon opera playing below.

The sudden, jarring high pitched shrill was like a spike being driven through the Jem'Hadar's head. Dropping his knife, the Jem'Hadar soldier tried his best to cover his ears, but the piercing wouldn't stop. He dropped helplessly to his knees, unable to even think. Then, for just a moment, as if it couldn't possibly get any worse, the sound got louder. The next sensation the battle trained Jem'Hadar felt was more pain, but a different kind, as an extremely heavy weight suddenly dropped on him from above, knocking the wind from him and sending him painfully to the floor on his back. The soldier's arms and legs helplessly pinned, he looked up to see a giant crystalline spider with a large, fanged mouth standing over him. 


	3. Chapter 1

Chief Engineer Tom Kelly had heard Colonel Prichard's request to lock down the ship at the same time as everyone else. He begged Commander Kirk to be allowed to get to main engineering before it was locked down. Reluctantly, Kirk approved. The turbolift had taken him down and across to deck ten. He knew he had almost three hundred meters to clear before he would reach the oversized double-doors of main engineering. He sprinted as fast as he could, knowing if a Jem'Hadar was near him, he'd never reach the door. Thankfully, he seemed as though he succeeded. He ran through the doors as the slid open with a low hum and as they closed, he began a series of keypresses on the panel in the entryway.

He made it.

Breathless, he turned to see a group of perplexed engineers dutifully standing at their various stations on the lower and upper level of the large room. Seeing the other door, he pointed to an ensign standing near to it and snapped his fingers and pointed to him. Tom had forgotten his name. "You!" He called out. The young ensign, barely in his twenties, pointed to himeself. Tom nodded. "Lock down that door!"

"Yes, Sir!" the startled ensign yelled back. Nervously, he fumbled around the key controls for the door until a blinking red light appeared on top.

Lieutenant Kelly looked around his engine room. Although the red alert siren had been turned off, the numerous flashing red lights scattered along the walls in a regular, eerie red. He counted a dozen people in the large, mostly white and gray colored room. They all looked at him with anxious eyes. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, get down here. I've got some information for you." he announced in his Australian accent, raising his hands. The five people on the second level scampered down the stairwells and elevator.

He motioned everyone closer. Ensign P'rr's obliged to a rather uncomfortable extent. He looked at her and rolled his eyes. "We have a situation. Shortly before the Warlord destroyed a Dominion escort ship, they beamed aboard three Jem'Hadar soldiers. One is dead and another one's injured badly. Unfortunately, once these nasties are shrouded, they disappear from our biosensors and our personal shield systems don't work." The group began whispering among themselves. He motioned with his hands for them to be quiet. "Look, I can tell everyone's bugged... it's alright. Everyone's locked up tighter than a relay clamp. The Marines are sweeping the ship looking for them. We just need to sit tight and make sure nothing gets in here."

The feline ensign wrapped her arm around his bicep and pointed towards the walkway above the central distribution center. "What about the Jeffrrreies tubes up therrre? They'rrre not securrred yet." The group stared nervously at the two grates, expecting some horrible monster to come through at any moment.

Tom squinted at the grates for several moments. "Yeah, we'll need plasma torches on... wait." He smiled and rubbed his hands together. "I have a better idea." Gently, but firmly, he removed P'rr's' paw from his arm and pointed to the weapons locker by the near door. "Grab a pair of phasers from the locker." P'rr's nodded, and dashed with amazing speed to the weapons locker. Just like an earth cat, she bounded back to the group and handed them to Lieutenant Kelly. He nodded. "Thanks." He handed them to a pair of ensigns in front of him. "Take these and head up there. Sit yourselves down in between the tubes. Sit back to back. If you see a grate move, shoot right at the opening, wide setting." The pair looked at each other nervously, then back to their commander. He ushered them off. "Come on... off with you. We'll set a trap for these little buggers." The group smiled, still nervous. "If they want in here, they're in for a big surprise." He nodded, trying to bolster the morale of his group. After all, most of them were fresh out of the Academy. For over half his crew, this was their first assignment... not that he had a WHOLE lot of experience himself. Compared to the rest of them, however, it was a lifetime. "Alright, gang. Get yourselves back to work. Even if these Jem'Hadar never show their ugly faces in here, we're in for a major firefight in a couple of hours."

Slowly, the group went back to their duty stations, but at some point, they all turned back to look at the grates of the Jeffries tubes occasionally. Slowly, casually, Tom wandered over to the double doors on the left side of the room, opened the weapons locker, and retrieved a phaser himself... just in case. 


	4. Chapter 3

"As soon as the one-armed bandit dropped his shroud, the internal sensors picked him up. Since we were already on the floor, we came right over." The oversized marine sergeant explained in between chews of his gum. Behind him, one of his subbordinates changed a setting on his phaser rifle, pointed it at the body of the Jem'Hadar, then fired a wide beam. The corpse was instantly vaporized in glowing smoke, setting off alarms throughout the room.

The noise caused the shirtless doctor to jump as he sat on a medical bed. "By the prophets!" He exclaimed. The movement shifted his body while the EMH was attempting to use the dermal regenerator to heal the doctor's knife wound. "Ow!" He exclaimed, rubbing his stomach. He took the regenerator from the EMH's hands. "What kind of hack medic are you?"

The EMH put his hands on his waist. "I'm no hack," he said defensively, "I have the combined knowledge of fifty-three of the greatest medical minds in Starfleet history."

"And when do you think you'll get around to USING it?" Dorrin asked obstinately. He leaned forward for effect, despite the pain it was causing.

"I'd do a better job," the EMH countered, grabbing the regenerator from the doctor's grip, "if you'd sit still!" He turned the device back on and began resealing the wound.

Sergeant Merriweather scratched his head and smiled. "That's quite a partner you got there, doc."

Doctor Rass scoffed. "Partner? Ha!"

The EMH looked back at the sergeant. "By most discernable standards, I'm his superior."

Dorrin narrowed his eyes at the EMH. "He's a virtual windbag... barely qualified to change bedsheets... ow! That hurt!" He exclaimed as the regenerator recrossed newly repaired skin.

"You moved again," the EMH replied smugly.

"Like hell I did," Dorrin retorted.

Looking slightly uncomfortable, the thirty-something sergeant pursed his lips. "Yeah, well... seeing how we had to shoot your door apart to get in here, we'll be standing guard right outside until the other one's caught."

"What's to stop the other one from walking past you guys?" the doctor asked incredulously.

"We'll be blocking the door. The only way past us will be through us."

That gave Doctor Rass some comfort. His hardened face softened a bit. "I see."

The sergeant waved his hand. "Besides, I wouldn't sweat it. The Colonel thinks the two of them split up looking for areas of opportunity. The other one is probably a long way from here."

"That's not a lot of comfort, Sergeant," Dorrin admitted. "This one was looking for a way to poison us all."

"We'll get him," Merriweather offered confidently.

The doctor pointed to the blast mark on the carpeting where his attacker once laid. "You mean the way you got that one? The one that nearly killed me?"

The seasoned sergeant was starting to get impatient with the doctor's incessant complaining. He pointed his thumb at the blast mark on the floor. "Well, we could always offer you up as bait. It worked pretty well for that one." 


	5. Chapter 5

With the final Jem'Hadar finally unshrouded, the ship's sensors went off immediately alerting the crew of his location; the corvette hangar bay... not two hundred meters from Colonel Prichard's quarters. Spitting a curse for not guessing the intruder's plan, he grabbed his favorite old-style plasma rifle and took off down the hall. He eventually caught up with Captain Connor and Captain Tonok, who were just around the corner from the main door. Three marines were already standing at the open door, staring in amazement and shock at what they were seeing. The three senior officers caught up with the enlisted men and joined them in surprise. There, in the dim, red pulsing light, was a giant semi-transparant spider, easily as tall as a human, standing over a very pained-looking Jem'Hadar, desperately, but unsuccessfully struggling to get free. In the background, to finish the macabre scene, was the sound of people screaming over badly tuned musical instruments.

Box, surprised at the number of people pointing guns at him, raised his front two legs in the air, keeping his other ten legs firmly on his prisoner, whom he was quite proud of securing, even if it was by unorthodox means. His friend Tony Moreau would have been proud. Speaking as loudly as his makeshift voice box would let him, Box ordered the computer in the Sting Ray to stop playing the K'lrath Mobah S'ok opera. Thankfully, the computer heard him and ceased the playback.

Sergeant White was the first to speak. His phaser still leveled in the direction of the Jem'Hadar and the spider, he leaned over to his commander, Captain Tonok, and asked, "Which one are we supposed to shoot?"

Captain Tonok, with typical vulcan emotionlessness, answered, "Currently, I wouldn't advise shooting either one since neither currently poses a threat."

Prichard, overhearing the conversation, decided to make the first move. He took a step forward and lowered his rifle. "Hi," he started in his southern draw, "I'm Colonel Prichard. Do you speak?"

Box cocked his large, bulbous head. What a silly question, he thought. Perhaps the Colonel was trying to be funny. Sucking in air into a sack he created, he answered, "Hhhhyes, but I am not a very good singer."

"Okay," Prichard said almost rhetorically, "it's scary and funny," he said with a shrug. He looked back at the spider. "Where did you come from?"

"Hhhhan egg." Box answered simply.

Prichard closed his eyes and shook his head. "Cute." Captain Connor tried, unsuccessfully, to keep from chuckling.

Commander Kirk came racing around the corner, momentarily prompting the marines to point their weapons at him instinctively. Once they recognized the uniform, they returned their gaze to the spider and Jem'Hadar, except for the senior officers. "What the hell are you doing here?" Prichard asked.

Quickly surveying the scene and realizing his friend Box had everything under control, he looked back at Colonel Prichard and pointed into the hangar. "Well, right now I'm wondering why your people are pointing guns at my senior mechanic."

Prichard's eyes bulged. "You mean that's part of your crew?" he asked incredulously.

Somewhat surprised at the question, Stephen replied, "Well, we're not allowed to pick up hitchhikers any more."

Connor chuckled again, as did the enlisted men earning a quick glare from Prichard. "Great... everyone's a comedian."

Kirk smiled wryly at the Colonel, then turned back to Box. "Nice catch, Box!"

Putting his front two legs back down, Box answered, "Hhhhthank you. He has delayed hhhhmy repairs to the Sting Ray, regretfully."

Captain Connor spoke up. "Oh, you're the one fixing my ship?" The large spider nodded. "Thanks!"

Prichard shook his head. His job description didn't mention anything about this. "Alright, ladies... heat 'em up. It's time to send this bad guy back to his ancestors." The three marines aimed their weapons and headed towards the helpless Jem'Hadar.

Kirk suddenly had an idea. "Wait... I think this one could come in handy."

Prichard raised an eyebrow as the marines stopped their advance. "What do you mean?"

"Well, our sensors can't currently detect their cloaking ability... and the supposed improvement of our shields still couldn't hold them back. It would be nice if we could study the guy a bit... maybe improve our defenses."

To Prichard, it sounded like disobeying orders. From what he gathered, they weren't supposed to leave any Dominion influence behind, making these things a self-correcting problem. Still, the idea had merit... especially if they could figure a way to make that shrouding ability work for his people... maybe even the anti-shield technology... he nodded. "Good idea. We'll figure a way to hold him." He motioned to his marines. "People, knock him out."

In response, they changed the settings on their weapons and closed in on the prone Jem'Hadar. For the first time in the Jem'Hadar's life, he felt something... fear. 


	6. Chapter 6

Commander Richards watched the stars absently as they sped past on the viewscreen in front of him. Nervously, he rapped his fingers across the arm of the captain's seat, where he was sitting. "Fifteen minutes," he thought, "fifteen minutes and not a word." As he watched the clock on the wall above his station, another minute ticked off. It had now been sixteen minutes since Commander Kirk had left in search of the intruder and he hadn't checked in... not that he said he would, but it would have been nice. Perhaps the commander was on the creature's trail and would give himself away if he did. Perhaps the commander is hurt somehow... Kenyon wanted to ask the computer to locate Stephen, but he didn't want to panic the rest of the command crew. They were already on edge as it was. They were speeding towards Cardassian space in a Federation warship disguised as a damaged Cardassian vessel looking to engage a fleet that had them hopelessly outnumbered.

He risked looking around at the remaining four crewmembers, hoping they wouldn't look back and see the look of concern on his face. Thankfully, they were all dutifully staring either straight ahead, or staring at their console. They were, he figured, probably trying to busy themselves to keep from feeling as nervous as he was. Looking at the arms of the captain's chair he was sitting in, he almost chucked at the irony. All his life he wanted to be a starship captain... ever since his father sat him in his seat when he was young. Now, with the current captain confined to his quarters and the first officer putting himself in harms way with an invisible intruder, he may very well find himself in command... and it terrified him. Perhaps he wasn't quite as ready to work 'without a net' as he had originally thought. Unfortunately, Kenyon didn't dare voice these thoughts. "I should have been more forceful," he thought. "Kirk had no business leaving. I may officially be the second officer on this ship, but right now I'm the first officer. I shouldn't have let him go." He toyed with the idea of contacting Kirk and making him come back. Deep down, Kenyon had to admit to himself he just wasn't ready for a situation like this and he wasn't ready to leave his wife and daughter.

Ensign Bristol's eyes were fixed on the flying stars as they streamed past the viewscreen. Apparently, against Starfleet's wishes, they were about to fly into enemy territory with guns blazing in an attempt to rescue hostages before they were killed, then destroy almost three dozen enemy starships. If they're successful, they will eliminate the Dominion threat from the alpha quadrant once and for all, liberate the Cardassian homeworld once again, and free several prominant Federation diplomats. Tyler found it difficult to sit still because of his excitement. For all the books he ever read, shows he had watched or stories he had heard... nothing even came close to what he was about to do. "How can a ship that big maneuver like that?" He imagined the enemy captains saying. The thought made him smile broader. "And to think," he thought, "my parents wanted me to work at Dad's bar." It was a pity they couldn't see this... see what he was being a part of. "They'll see," he thought. "One day... they'll see." The idea of the hostages dying or of his ship being blown apart from superior firepower never occurred to him.

Liutenant Commander T'Nia continued studying her tactical panel. Although she was completely familiar with its layout, continued practice could only be beneficial, she thought. Besides, it helped her from dwelling on the profound absence of her commanding officer and friend. His decision to leave was illogical... but understandable, she concluded. He was, after all, a man of deep convictions, even if they were occasionally misguided. It was a pity he hadn't chosen to discuss his course of action with her... not that it would have changed anything, she admitted to herself. Hopefully, the remaining intruder will be dealt with soon, so Stephen can return to the bridge. Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she once again looked at the console. Most likely, they would be making use of the Warlord's auto-fire system. T'Nia decided to refresh her knowledge of the system. After all, the onset of a battle would be an inopportune time to press the wrong controls. Part of Warlord's advanced technology was the ships ability to automatically load its torpedoes and recharge its phasers. The additional benefit of increased firing speed was the ability to link the tactical computer with the firing controls, meaning she could select, or 'paint' targets on her tactical display, then engage the auto-firing system. The ship would then begin firing at the 'painted' targets until they were neutralized. Against so many enemy vessels, this would prove invaluable. First things first, however. She would need to manually arm enough ordinance to remove the shields protecting the government building without causing enough structural damage to force the building to collapse. Although she had performed the necessary calculations four times, a fifth would only benefit them.

Lieutenant Davies strained her ears, trying to listen for any communications at all. Anything at all might give them some kind of advantage in the upcoming fight. Although she wasn't nearly as terrified as she was during their first fight, she still found her hands shaking. The silence across the various communications frequencies was eerie. There was nothing... not even static... as though the communications channels had been intentionally cut off. Perhaps the silence meant the Dominion was already prepared for them. Maybe they were headed into a trap. Maybe they should change course. Maybe, if she told Commander Richards again of the strange silence, he'd change his mind and call off the attack. Of course, she'd already told him twice, in reply to his asking twice, and he hadn't changed course. "As long as Commander Kirk is in charge, we do this his way." Richards had said. Now, the only voices she heard were the five minute updates the marines were giving their superiors. Kenyon had told her to turn off the reports from the overhead speakers several minutes ago. Now, the fact they weren't finding anything after catching the first one, was just as nerve-wracking as the cardassian silence. Just as she had found peace being aboard the Warlord, the upcoming conflict made her start thinking of her previous life on Earth. Going back had been a tempting thought... once. That was before she had gotten to know the person next to her. Poor judgement and even more poorly chosen words had damaged her friendship with Tony Moreau for awhile. Now, they were friends again and had agreed to take things slowly and just enjoy their friendship.

Since then, they ate meals with each other frequently. She had introduced him to romantic comedies and he introduced her to American football. Although she'd never admit it, she just didn't quite get American football. It was entirely too violent for her and had entirely too many rules. Still she enjoyed the games not for the sport, but to watch her friend get completely wrapped up in it. Elaine was beginning to regret her agreement to 'take it slow.' He was barely two inches taller than her. He had an obvious Chicago accent. He was bull-headed and overconfident. His face had a few scars from teenage acne he waited entirely too long to cure. Yet, she was attracted to him... considerably. As frequently as she had been burned for going too far with men in the past, she found herself wanting to try it one more time... providing they lived to see tomorrow. That thought made her shudder. She looked back at her communications console and struggled to eavesdrop on anything that might give them an advantage.

Planting himself squarely in front of his computer screen, Lieutenant Moreau had successfully put his body between his screen and anyone looking his direction. This afforded him just a little privacy to enjoy one of his favorite pasttimes... poker. One a small window at the bottom of his panel, he and three virtual players were enjoying a game of five card stud. "I'm supposed to be off-shift," he offered himself as an excuse, "I put in my time already today. Besides, we may get our butts blown out the quadrant in a couple of hours, so what does it matter?" The thought of their demise gave Tony pause. Not seeing his brothers again... not seeing his Mom again... na, not with Steve in charge. He had doubted Stephen's capabilities for the last time. If Steve said they could make then, he was going to believe him... unless, of course, Steve didn't make back from the bug hunt down below. "Why did he leave?" he thought. Then, as quickly as he asked himself, he knew the answer. "Steve felt guilty." He nodded, then decided to raise the pot by ten credits. Steve will make it back. He had to. Steve had to get back and lead them to victory... Tony had a date with Elaine Friday night. They're going to the holodeck so he could show her the view of Chicago from the top of the Sears Tower.

The pop of Commander Richard's comm badge gave everyone on the bridge a start. "Kirk to Richards."

As if he had been holding his breath the entire time, Kenyon let out a long breath. He tapped his badge. "Go ahead, Commander."

"We got intruder two. I'm heading up to the bridge. Kirk out."

With the noteable exception of T'Nia, the bridge crew cheered and let out a sigh of relief. 


	7. Chapter 7

"Captain's log, supplimental. Oops... well, actually, I guess I'm continuing where I left off. I forgot I hadn't finished the last log entry. Anyway, we're less than an hour from the Cardassian system. The Marine corvettes have launched. They're currently grappled to the Warlord since their sensors can't actually SEE us. They'll launch and head for Cardassia's surface just before we start firing on the government building. Our hope is we'll make enough of a disturbance that the Dominion won't even care they're there. It's a pretty safe bet. End recording."

"Commander," Ensign Bristol began, "we've officially entered the Cardassian system."

Stephen nodded. "Thank you, Ensign." He turned to Commander Richards. "Keep your eyes peeled. They should already know we're here." Instinctively, he rubbed the nervous sweat from his palms on the side of the captain's chair.

Kenyon shook his head and turned around. "I already have a Galor class cruiser on an intercept course. They're on impulse, so they won't meet us for another twelve minutes."

Stephen muttered under his breath, "Of course."

Lieutenant Davies turned around. "Commander, they're hailing us... asking about the extent of our damage."

"Keep filling their ears with static, Lieutenant."

"Aye, aye, Sir." Dutifully, she turned back to listen more intently.

"What's to stop them from beaming over more goons like the last ship?" Kenyon asked.

Stephen smiled. "I had Tony fake a radiation leak on all the decks." With that, Tony turned around and grinned broadly at Commander Richards.

Kenyon smiled. "Nice touch." He turned back around, more confident in the plan.

Elaine turned back around and removed her earpiece. "Commander, they're asking if any of our personal communicators work." With that statement, everyone on the bridge turned to Commander Kirk.

"No pressure," he thought sarcastically. Turning back to Elaine, he asked, "Well, remember when I asked you how good your Cardassian language skills were?" She looked at him incredulously. "I do hope you've brushed up on it."

She swallowed. "Well, I looked at it a little." 

Stephen exhaled deeply. This could be unfortunate. "Well, here's hoping they don't ask a lot of questions." He pointed to her communications panel. "Go for it."

Her eyes bulged a bit as the order. The crew then turned their eyes on her. Looking around, she quipped, "Okay, let's not add to the stress, shall we?" She turned back around to her panel. Nervously, she put the earpiece on and put the cardassian request through. As an insurance policy, she quickly pulled up the cardassian translation dictionary on her overhead console. Everyone stared anxiously as she listened in on the conversation. Her fingers furiously typed information into the translator program as words flashed across the screen. "Uh... shzrel zhahm za-berre chon... tre... terbere nod, oceda." She waited for several seconds, then replied once more as her fingers once again danced across her keyboard. Reading the board quickly and leading with a finger, she spoke again, "Unesa kisan dek-tarabek nok... nok... nok poses bis, oceda." After several more nervewracking moments, she performed more frantic word searches on her screen. "Neka das cerek mokeva, oceda." Her hands shaking, she pressed a single button on her console that ended the transmission, threw her earpiece on the console, and let out a loud sigh. "My god," she exclaimed, "they bought it."

The bridge crew cheered loudly. "Way to go, Elaine!" Stephen yelled.

She shook her head and turned around. "That was probably the worst accent I've ever spoken. I can't believe they fell for it."

"They probably thought you were sick from the radiation." Stephen offered.

"Sorry to interrupt," Kenyon interjected. "But... um... the cardassian ship is getting closer."

Stephen looked questioningly at Elaine. "Oh, yeah," she remembered. "They're going to escort us to Cardassia Prime."

Stephen looked at Kenyon and smiled. Kenyon smiled back. "Perfect." Stephen turned to Tyler. "Ensign, fall into formation behind that cardassian ship and match it bearing and speed. We're getting a free ride to Cardassia." 


	8. Chapter 8

"Put it on screen," Kirk ordered. The image of Cardassia Prime filled the forward viewscreen. He took a deep breath. "Yep, that's it," he said absently after Ensign Bristol announced their final approach to their destination.

Kenyon shot Stephen a sideways glance. "What, you thought they moved it?" Kirk returned the look with a raised eyebrow. Smart alec comments would only go so far, especially in a situation like the one they were about to face. "Sir?" Kenyon quickly added with a guilty smile.

"How many ships do you see?" Kirk asked, still looking Richard's direction.

Looking at his sensor screen, he counted with his finger. "I count four right now, not including the one in front of us. Two Cardassian Galors and two Dominion Raiders. There are probably more cloaked. Do you want me to fire a tachyon burst?"

Kirk considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I don't want to give ourselves away yet." Although, technically, this was the third engagement he was commanding the Warlord through, it was still uncomfortable for him. Stephen wasn't used to be the 'go to' person. He always knew he'd eventually command a starship, just because of the namesake, but he was uncomfortable with it being this soon. He only hoped that once this mission was over, Captain Bolerov would get the necessary help needed to get him back in the captain's seat. As much as he disagreed with Bolerov's leadership style, at least he HAD one.

"Elaine, tell the corvettes to get ready to detach." Stephen ordered without turning around. Instinctively, he gripped the arms of the captain's seat tighter.

"Yes, Sir." She spun around in her chair and nervously tapped her communications controls. She hadn't been this scared since their very first battle, when the ship was still technically under construction. She had a horrible feeling they wouldn't get out alive then. Thankfully, she had been proven wrong, but not by much. The damage that had been inflicted had been substantial. Try as she might to have more confidence, she couldn't help but think she'd never see Montreal again.

"Tyler," Stephen began, "where is that government building relative to our initial orbit position?"

Tyler tapped a few buttons on his panel, then looked at the navigational screen next to it. Turning his head slightly, he answered, "It's at thirty-two point two four degrees north latitude and a hundred six point eight-five degrees east longitude." He pressed several more buttons on his panel before continuing his answer. "Okay, given our current speed, we'll hit orbit about two hundred-fifty kilometers north and three thousand-twentysome kilometers west of the target."

Stephen considered his answer for several moments, trying to remeber planetary navigation. "Okay, we should still be in line-of-sight from a north/south perspective, but too far west of our target... I'm thinking it'll be faster to catch up with our target instead of waiting for it to come back around, right?" 

Tyler nodded.

Kirk took another breath and sat up in his chair. "Okay, everyone. Get ready. Elaine, tell the corvettes to break as soon as we open fire." He tapped his comm badge. "Kirk to Kelly."

His badge popped. "Lieutenant Kelly here, Sir," Tom replied in his trademark Australian accent.

"Are you ready to send down our presents?"

"Present one is in transporter room one. I've got present two in the cargo bay with me now."

"Okay, keep an eye on the screen and keep a channel open in transporter room one. Once Warlord fires, the shield will be down. You can pretty much do your thing as soon as you see the weapons fire."

"Roger that. We'll play delivery boys as soon as we see the fireworks."

"Good deal. Kirk out." He tapped his badge again. Under his breath, Stephen prayed for wisdom and safety for his crew, the marines, and the hostages. The expression on his face turned grave. "Let's do this... Tyler... now!"

The course already set into the navigation computer, Tyler pounded the execute button and threw his hand over the thruster control. The great ship lunged forward, barely noticeable to the crew inside. On the viewscreen, the image of Cardassia Prime quickly grew in size, and began to slide gently to the left.

Elaine turned around. "Sir, the cardassian ship is asking what we're doing."

"Ignore them and get ready to broadcast on all frequencies." Stephen replied quickly. "T'Nia, as soon as you have a clear shot, take it."

"Twelve seconds to optimum firing trajectory," T'Nia replied calmly.

Lieutenant Davies set her communications panel to perform a general broadcast. "Ready when you are, Sir." Elaine replied.

"Commander, I've got three cardassians on an intercept course. They'll be here in seconds." Richards announced.

The ship suddenly rocked briefly as a torpedo exploded nearby. 

Kenyon shook his head. "Our escort ship just fired at us."

Elaine spoke up. "Commander, they're warning us to slow down or they'll open fire. The first shot was a warning shot."

Kirk ignored the statements from his crew and looked at T'Nia. "Time, T'Nia?"

"Five more seconds," she replied. The ship shook again, this time more violently. The alarms changed pitch.

"Impact alert!" Elaine announced, a bit more loudly than she should have. The ship shuddered again.

"Turn that siren off!" Kirk demanded. "We're going to get hit a lot more than that. I need a damage report. Tony, drop the sensor mask."

"Aye, Sir," Lieutenant Moreau replied automatically. Maybe he could get used to calling his friend 'sir' after all.

"Firing," T'Nia announced. Three torpedoes launched from the bottom of the viewscreen and sped towards the planet's surface quickly followed by a small burst from a phaser array. T'Nia turned back around to face the commander as the ship shuddered again. "Shield is down, Commander. The building has sustained moderate damage on the ground floor."

The ship shuddered again, this time more violently. "Commander, I have two Dominion battlecruisers decloaking low off our starboard bow!" Kenyon yelled.

"Commander, the cardassian ship is firing on one location. No casualties, but the armor is wearing thin there." Elaine added, her nervousness obvious in her voice.

"Open the broadcast," Stephen commanded.

"You're on, commander," Elaine answered dutifully.

"This is Commander Stephen Kirk of the starship Warlord. I'm here to secure the release of several Federation and Cardassian hostages and remove the Dominion threat once and for all. My issue isn't with Cardassia. If you stand down your weapons, you won't be fired on. Keep targeting us and you'll share their fate." Kirk gave the cutoff sign to Elaine.

"It's off," Davies replied.

"The battlecruiser..." Kenyon started. The ship rocked violently from an impact. "is firing a polaron cannon," he added, shrugging.

Kirk tapped his comm badge again. "Kelly! Did you transport everything yet?" 

On the viewscreen, barely visible, two small corvettes launched from the underbelly of the Warlord and quickly sped towards the planet. 


	9. Chapter 9

The hostages looked at each other nervously as the room shook and the lights flickered. Councilman Gerak walked unsteadily towards Admiral Jean Luc Picard. "Admiral," he started loudly, "either there are very large rats in this building OTHER than the Jem'Hadar..."

"Or someone is attempting an escape." Picard replied with a smile. "This is our time to act." There was another violent shudder followed by the a momentary loss of power to the room. Sirens went off all around as emergency lights came on. People in the room began screaming as chaos ensued. Picard seized the opportunity and lunged at the nearest Jem'Hadar, throwing an elbow into his chest. The Jem'Hadar backed up a step, then looked menacingly at the middle aged admiral.

Gerak found another soldier rushing to the aid of the one Picard was fighting. Taking the element of surprise, he rushed the oncoming soldier and caught him broadside. The impact threw both to the ground. Gerak began wrestling with the soldier for his weapon, yelling, "This is our time... fight for your freedom!" The screams became louder as the cardassian prisoners engaged their captors.

Picard made a grab for the Jem'Hadar's weapon as he brought it to bear. The soldier gave Picard a head butt that sent him to the ground, dizzy. As he raised his weapon, he felt considerable pressure on his arm. Looking back, he saw a vulcan holding his forearm. Turning around, he looked Ambassador Solek in the eye. "I've always wanted to kill a vulcan." He slowly raised his arm, despite the ambassador's grip. Using the Jem'Hadar's preoccupation with freeing his arm, Solek skillfully, used his foot to kick the back of the warrior's right knee. Solek, using his free arm, grabbed the soldier's face and used the momentum of the fall to drive the back of the Jem'Hadar's head into the ground. He released his grip on the warrior's arm, then drove his hand into the the Jem'Hadar's chest. The Jem'Hadar cried out in pain, loosening his grip on the rifle he was holding. With a quick twist of the wrist, Solek grabbed the rifle and wrested it from his oppoent's hand. He pointed the rifle at the Jem'Hadar. "Apparently, you will need to learn to live with disappointment." He pulled the trigger.

Picard was about to get up when he heard the doors on either side of the room open, meaning reinforcements were coming. Then, above him, he saw the silvery shimmer of a transporter beam. As the shimmering faded, he saw several oval objects momentarily hovering in the room. One quickly fell to the floor near him. It was a stun grenade... with the pin removed. "Oh, no," he remarked as the grenade went off. The last thing he remembered was seeing a blinding light and a painful pop in his ear.

As the grenades went off, the room began to shimmer with the light of a large transporter beam. As the concussion of the grenades faded, so, too, did the ribbons of sparkling transporter light. In the center of the room, where a dozen or more unconscious bodies laid, dozens of Starfleet Marines stood, huddled close together, surrounding their equipment. The hostages and hostage-takers they had replaced were safely aboard the Warlord. Near the top of the pile, Colonel Prichard quickly surveyed the situation before him. "What the hell was happening here?" he asked as he saw unconscious cardassians laying over Dominion soldiers. Then, the main lights came back on. He saw the two pairs of side doors open and Jem'Hadar soldiers standing in the openings. Using both hands, he pointed out both doors. "Delta team, Epsilon team, secure those doors! Tonok, get those transport inhibitors set up! Move it, move it, move it!" As he was barking orders, two Jem'Hadar turned the corner into the room from the left doors and began firing. They were quickly put down by Delta team, who quickly dropped to a crouch.

Tonok quickly ordered his people to remove four long, metallic, pointed cylinders from a case that had been transported down with them. A pair of marines each took an inhibitor and performed a duck-and-run to each corner of the room. As they pressed a switch on the side, each cylinder began blinking a red light at the top of the point to indicate it was active.

"Ironhide, set up that communications relay." Prichard pointed to a square device on the floor with a dish atop it, no more than a half-meter on each side. Captain Connor quickly obeyed. "Lucky, have your men back up Delta and Epsilon and get working on the barricades. Clear the halls and set 'em up there. Frosty, wake up our hostages and deal with our sleeping uglies. We're not in the mood for prisoners."

The sound of weapons fire quickly filled the room as red beams of energy impacted the walls near the doors. "Come on, people, let's move it!" Prichard yelled. He ducked down and started unpacking weapons from the large case next to him.

Lieutenant Wilma 'Lucky' Thackery yelled first and loudest in her Irish accent. "Avrool, have your men back up Delta team! Chappel, you back up Epsilon. Push the uglies back into the front room! Lerrie, your men are with me. Break out these shield barriers. We need them set up as soon as we have a hole in the halls. Let's go!" The Tellerite Sergeant Arvool huffed his men into the halls to back up Delta team. Corporal Chappel quickly hustled his team to the right side doors to back up Epsilon team.

Lieutenant Curtis 'Frosty' O'Shea grabbed his group commanders closely to him. "Ross, Henderson, you get your people and wake up our sleeping beauties. As soon as they're able, give them a weapon from the locker over there. Merriweather, take your men and trash the uglies. Be quick about it... they'll wake up faster than anyone else."

Sergeant Ross and Corporal Henderson grabbed their teams, pulled out small packages from their belts, and began waving them under the noses of the hostages. The more than slightly Sergeant Merriweather looked quizzically at Lieutenant O'Shea. "By 'trash the uglies', you mean...?"

Curtis grabbed the big sergeant, turned him around and pushed him towards his group. "I mean vaprize them! Make them go away! I don't want to see them! Got it?"

"Yes, Sir!" Merriweather rumbled off to his group, who turned up the settings on their phaser rifles and began executing the unconscious Jem'Hadar. One by one, they were quickly reduced to a small, smoking spot on the floor.

His men nodded to Captain Tonok, who in turn looked to Prichard. "Colonel, the inhibitors are set up. Nothing is getting in or out using a transporter beam."

Prichard nodded. "Good. That'll keep 'em from pulling the same stunt we just pulled." Just then, more disruptor fire filled the hallways again, forcing the marines back into the room. Prichard motioned to the doors. "Grab some grenades and have your men light up the halls. We need some space."

"Yes, Sir." Tonok replied monotonously. Tonok motioned for his two teams to gather. Reaching into the weapons locker, he removed several stun grenades and handed them to his people. "Assist in clearing the halls for the barricades." The six people eagerly grabbed the grenades and raced to the doors.

Sergeant White grabbed a pair of grenades and removed the safety pins. "Fire in the hole!" He yelled. The eight marines filling the doors ran back into the room as White tossed the grenades down the hall. There was a momentary flash of light. White grabbed another pair of grenades from the private behind him and repeated the process. At the other door, Sergeant Cofiss did the same.

Lieutenant Thackery yelled to her two groups. "Move out! Set up the barricades!" Arvool and Chappel walked their teams out the halls under cover fire from the Marine teams next to the door.

Prichard took another look around. The hostages were quickly waking up and the Jem'Hadar in the room had been quickly dispatched. The transport inhibitors were working and the barricades were being set up. Everything was going according to plan. He turned to his senior officers. "Alrighty... all we need to do now is dig in and wait for the Warlord to give us the all-clear." 


	10. Chapter 10

"The marines are down!" Lieutenant Kelly's voice yelled across Stephen's comm badge.

"Praise God!" Stephen yelled back. "T'Nia, get those shields up!"

Her finger already on the command buttons, she pressed them quickly. The screen on her tactical display quickly showed a pair of rings surrounding an overhead represenation of the Warlord. Like turning off a switch, the rocking motion that had been jarring the crew stopped. "Shields up, Sir," she announced emotionlessly.

"Commander, I have six Dominion raiders coming up from the southern pole." Kenyon announced almost robotically. The events of the past several moments had left him numb.

Kirk looked over to his first officer. "We should have more company than this... unless we completely caught them off guard. Start regular tachyon bursts. It's time to start clearing our baffles, Mister Richards." The lack of ship movement left Stephen with the impression the worst was over. "Elaine, what're our final damage numbers?"

Lieutenant Davies removed her earpiece. "So far, I've got seven injuries... none of them serious. The doctor's patching them up now. I've also got some ship damage... two of the ablative plates covering the port nacell suffered a lot of damage. They're pretty much useless. Another couple of hits would have destroyed the drive. There was some minor power distribution damage from it, but the system has already re-routed to the backups."

Stephen pursed his lips. "Well, that's not so bad."

Elaine nodded. Considering how badly the ship had rocked, she had expected the damage to be worse. Perhaps they'd survive this after all.

"Whoa!" Kenyon yelled, causing the crew to look his direction save T'Nia, who was seeing something similar on her targeting console.

"What?" Stephen instinctively replied.

"I have multiple contacts decloaking in front of us, Sir," T'Nia stated. The forward viewscreen suddenly filled with no less than four large, gray and purple, bat-like vessels, who began instantly firing long, purple beams of polaron energy towards the Warlord.

"How are the shields holding up?" Stephen asked out loud.

T'Nia looked quickly. "Eighty-one percent and falling."

"Okay, T'Nia... you've been itching to use the auto-firing system. Now's the time. Paint your targets and let them have it when you have a solution." Stephen announced. "Hold back the cannons, though. That battleship has to be around here somewhere. Tyler, run the gauntlet."

Looking at her targeting panel, she began touching the screen where she identified an object to be targeted. Currently, she counted fourteen Dominion ships.

"Aye, aye, Sir!" Tyler screamed anxiously. He had been waiting for this... his chance to shine. Setting the course, he ignited the maneuvering thrusters to break orbit from the planet and headed straight for the collection of Dominion ships that had just become visible. With another pair of button presses, the rear thrusters fired full force, sending the Warlord forward.

Her targets designated, T'Nia pressed the 'Engage' button on her firing panel. The words 'Autofire engaged' blinked on her tactical display. What appeared on the viewscreen impressed even her and sent the bridge crew into cheers. A dazzling array of red lines and purple pinpoints exploded from the bottom center of the screen lighting up the space in front of them with explosions.

"I've got five more bandits coming in fast from Cardassia IV." Richards announced, still quite impressed with the display in front of him. Then, bringing him back to reality, a very large image appeared over the northern pole. His expression grew tense as the image sped closer to their position. "Well, there it is... battleship coming in high on our six."

Nervously, Kirk balled his fists. "Great", he thought, "they're coming in behind us. They must have been waiting for us to make a move." Standing up, he moved towards Tyler. "Bristol, push us through this line and turn us around. The cannons only fire forward."

"Damn, it's flanked by a pair of cruisers," Richards added. "They're firing!"

"That was significant," T'Nia commented. "Our primary shields are down to sixty-three percent."

"What have we done to them?" Stephen asked, hoping for good news.

Richards looked at his sensors. "I've got five raiders down, two cruisers destroyed and two more with damage." "The other bandits are moving into position behind us. The battleship has launched an entire wing of raiders! I count another dozen."

"That's a good strategy," Stephen remarked. "Our weapons are lighter there."

Richards announced, "The battleship's firing again!" more nervously this time.

Kirk gritted his teeth. "T'Nia, have you got a firing solution on that battleship?" His voice was agitated.

"Not yet, we have not yet completed our turn." she replied calmly. In her opinion, there was no logical need for him to raise his voice.

"Tyler?" Stephen asked angrily.

"The thing turns like a diridium wall stuck in mud, Sir," the young ensign cried out defensively.

Stephen shook his head, dashed to the navigation console, and pointed to the impulse engine controls. "Port impulse engine one eighth forward, starboard impulse engine one eighth reverse... come ON, Tyler... think! You're going to get us killed!"

Tyler pounded the console. He should have thought of that. Waving his hands over the engine controls, he touched one slide up and the other back. The great ship shook at the sudden change in momentum. The viewscreen blurred with the dizzying change of direction. When the screen image settled, it revealed a chaotic arrangement of enemy vessels attempting to break formation and move behind the Warlord. At the top of the screen, barely visible, was the belly of the giant battleship, which was firing again. 

"T'Nia, FIRE!" Stephen yelled.

While the auto-firing program continued to target the smaller ships, T'Nia locked the giant battleship into the cannon's crosshairs. She pressed two buttons; one for each cannon. Dozens of small, green globes streaked from the bottom of the viewscreen towards the underside of the battleship. A protective bubble began to glow around it as the cannonfire impacted the battleship's shields. Quickly, the glowing began to fade as the weapons overwhelmed them, allowing one, then two, then four, then eight, then twelve bursts to pass and impact the vessel itself. Small, then larger explosions dotted the underside of the battleship as the Warlord continued moving forward underneath the giant, black ship. It violently listed to one side as the continuing damage caused its stabilizer engines to malfunction. Within moments, explosions rocked the top rear of the ship as green globes rocketed completely through.

"What's the status of the battleship?" Stephen asked, trying not to sound frantic.

Richards looked at his sensor display. "Sir, we got him. Its main engines are offline and its weapons are down. It's just drifting. Actually..." he looked again. "I don't think it ever got out of the gravity well of Cardassia. I think it's falling into a decaying orbit." He looked again and pressed several buttons. "Yeah... if they can't get some kind of power restored, they're gonna crash in about twelve minutes."

"Good," Stephen remarked flatly. "That's one less thing we have to worry about. Keep up with the tachyon bursts and get detailed sensor readings on that battleship. I want to know as much as possible if we ever have to go up against one again. Good shooting, T'Nia. What's our shield situation?" NOW, he thought, the worst was over.

She turned around, her expression serious. "Primary shields are down to thirty percent."

"How many bandits are still out there?" He asked hopefully. Perhaps, with the loss of their flagship, the rest would lose heart.

"I count twelve raiders and five cruisers," T'Nia replied, staring at her tactical console. "I also count six cardassian ships, but they haven't fired yet."

"Commander," Richards interrupted, turning around, "I'm counting twenty cardassian lifeforms on that battleship."

"Well, we really can't help that," Kirk admitted coldly, "They picked their side."

"Actually," Richards began slowly, "it looks like they're in prison cells." 


	11. Chapter 11

Gelnon stared with disbelief at the panel in front of him. The face of the Jem'Hadar he was looking at was genuinely perplexed. "HOW many ships have we lost?"

"Seventeen," the Jem'Hadar replied, "and three are badly damaged."

"What is the condition of the Starfleet vessel? Surely it's close to destruction."

"We managed to damage some of the armor plating on its port engine before its shields went up. After that, we couldn't tell. Their shields are somehow preventing us from scanning them. It doesn't appear to have suffered any further damage, however."

Gelnon pounded his fist against the console, to Tegril's hidden delight. "This is impossible! Fly every raider we have into that ship until its shields collapse. And have one of the cruisers transport a contingent of soldiers as reinforcements to the council chambers and another contingent to the government building. DESTROY THAT SHIP!" The vein in his neck was bulging.

"Victory for the founders!" the Jem'Hadar yelled. His image vanished from the screen. Once again, the building shook and the lights flickered from the pounding by the smaller Starfleet ships that mysteriously appeared as the Warlord opened fire on the government building from orbit.

The vorta let out an atypical scream in anger. "First!" He yelled after his personal Jem'Hadar assistant. The large, gray soldier stepped out from the rest of the group standing behind him.

"Yes, Master," he replied, walking up to the Vorta.

"Exactly how did it come to pass that this Federation ship got into orbit without being spotted?" Having been asleep at the time of the attack, he knew nothing of what was happening until the building began shaking from the weapon exchange.

"Apparently, the Starfleet ship is capable of disguising itself as other objects. When it approached, our sensors identified it as the cardassian cruiser Nolkath, the vessel we sent to intercept and destroy Warlord after it left cardassian space. It arrived severely damaged and with a radiation leak."

"That tells me the Nolkath was probably destroyed if the Warlord was disguised as it." He turned and looked at the tactical display on the main panel at the bottom of the giant meeting room. "Why aren't the Cardassian ships firing?" He asked angrily. "They're just sitting there!" He turned and glared insanely at Ross Tegril.

Tegril merely shrugged, desperately wanting to laugh at the desperation in Gelnon's face. "I don't know, Gelnon. You told them to open fire as soon as they saw a Federation ship."

"Master, if I may..." First began, "The Starfleet ship broadcast a message offering not to fire on any cardassian vessel that lowered its weapons."

"We offered independence," Gelnon paced as he spoke, "we offered freedom from the tyranny of Federation rule. We have the superior numbers. We have the superior firepower. Why would they listen to a Federation ship that is so hopelessly outmatched?" His plan had been perfect. Everything had been working until the Federation showed up. The angry glare returned to Gelnon's face as he turned around to face Ross again. "Prefect Tegril... you will get on your communications system and order the cardassian military to open fire on the Federation ship, or I will order the immediate execution of our cardassian 'guests' on our battleship. Is that clear?"

Ross was stuck. He certainly didn't want to add Cardassia's firepower to the Dominion, but what could he do? Once again, his wife and daughter were at stake. As much as he desperately wanted to step fully into his leadership role as the head of Cardassia, he just couldn't. Gelnon pointed indignantly at the console before him. The conflict within him overwhelmed him to the point of tears. He simply couldn't handle it any more. Ross began to weep.

Gelnon's expression softened a bit. He walked over to Tegril and patted him on the back. "There, there," he cooed, "the mantle of leadership can be quite heavy, can't it?" Ross dared to look at the vorta's purple eyes, which almost looked sympathetic. "Perhaps this will help... try to imagine how your precious daughter will cry when I have her mother executed before her very eyes." He motioned to an imaginary image in front of him, then smiled evilly.

Helpless hated welled up inside of Ross as his teary eyes glared up at Gelnon. "You monster," he whispered.

Gelnon helped push him towards the communications console. "I'm the monster?" He asked coyly. "I'm not the one who betrayed my people. Now... order your ships to attack." 


	12. Chapter 12

Lieutenant Gannon was busy looking at the tactical display on his front console. Behind him, the side door open, his communications specialist was firing a phaser rifle madly at a large, square building on the left side of the street as the Sting Ray swept past. In the seat to his right, his tactical specialist was using the forward-mounted pulse phaser to tear up the road between the council building and the government building. Although they had taken some unsually heavy fire from some Dominion weapons, their shields were holding. The Sting Ray sped past the conflict area. Thankfully, the cardassians who had been protesting scattered as soon as the civic sirens went off. The wind noise was almost deafening, even with their helmets on. "Did any get across?" Gannon yelled. 

The specialist ducked his head back into the long corvette. "I don't think so, Sir," he yelled back, "not this time."

"Fantastic, guys!" Gannon yelled. "If you can punch the front of that building down, we just might be able to block them off entierly. It looks like their holed up in there." Looking at his panel display, he saw the Manta Ray quickly coming up on the street he had just passed. Grabbing the control stick, he began swinging the nose of the corvette around for yet another pass. Then, the communications panel began beeping and lighting up. "Who the hell wants to have a conversation with us NOW?" He yelled rhetorically. Pressing a few buttons on his own panel, he routed the communications through his station as he continued the turn. "This is Gannon," he announced into his helmet microphone.

"Lieutenant, this is Lieutenant Davies of the Warlord," the strikingly female voice on the other end announced softly.

"Lieutenant, I'm a little busy right now," he yelled back over the wind rush. "What's the problem... and speak up."

"Lieutenant Gannon, a Dominion battleship will be entering the upper atomosphere of Cardassia in ten minutes. There are almost two dozen cardassian prisoners aboard. It'll crack air approximately fourteen hundred kilometers from your current position. Commander Kirk was wondering if you'd be able to transport them aboard your corvettes before the ship broke apart."

Gannon looked incredulous. "You're kidding, right?" The ship completed its turn. He began to dive one more time. This time, several Jem'Hadar had taken position in some upper windows of the council chambers and began firing weapons again. The small, but potent purple beams impacted the forward shields in a shower of purple and white sparks. "Uglies at ten o'clock!" He yelled.

"No, Lieutenant, he's not kidding," the female voice replied, somewhat dismayed.

The comm specialist began firing at the upper windows as the tactical specialist continued his assault on the first floor. Gannon shook his head. "I'll ask the captain, but I'm not promising anything. Sting Ray out." The corvette sailed past the crowded street as another barrage of purple weaponsfire impacted the shields. "These people must be crazy." He said aloud. "Perry!" he yelled at his comm specialist. "Get in here and get Captain Connor on the horn."

"Aye, Sir." the specialist answered. He ducked back inside and pressed a wall control to close the hatch. With the door shut, the wind noise vanished entirely. Rushing to his seat, he tapped several buttons. "I hope their communications relay is set up or the inhibitors won't let..." He was interrupted by a voice in his earpiece. "Captain Connor? This is Specialist Perry of the Sting Ray. Lieutenant Gannon has something to ask you." He tapped several more buttons on his panel.

"Gannon? What's going on?" The voice of Captain Connor asked impatiently.

"Captain, I was just contacted by the Warlord. The battleship's wasted and going down, but it's got prisoners aboard. It'll hit air in ten minutes. They want me to break off support and try to secure the prisoners."

Gannon could hear the muffled sounds of talking, but couldn't make out the words. Some talking was louder than others, but still indiscernable. "What's your status?" Connor finally asked.

"We're taking pretty light weaponsfire right now. They threw some heavy stuff at us in the beginning, but I haven't seen it for awhile. Both ships are in good shape with at least seventy percent shields remaining."

"Okay... are the uglies getting reinforcements across?"

"Not now, no. We shot up the east side of the council building pretty bad and tore the road to shreds. It'll take 'em awhile to dig themselves out and when they do, it'll be slow going without cover to get across."

"How many prisoners are there and how far away do you have to go?"

"Fourteen hundred klicks away and two dozen prisoners."

There was more muffled discussions. "You won't have enough time to get them by yourself. Make one more pass and trash the east side of the building, then take the Manta Ray with you. God only knows why the Feddies want to play hero, but we'll go along with it for now. Connor out."

Gannon turned around to his comm specialist again. "Get me Featherly. We're gonna play hero." 


	13. Chapter 13

"How long you figure they're gonna be gone?" Colonel Prichard asked Captain Connor.

Connor shrugged. "Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes." Two more purple streams of energy impacted the wall near the left door.

Prichard surveyed the room. He saw six Marines holding the left door, and seven holding the right door. One of Tonok's men was busy performing some field triage on a marine who had been shot. He was banged up, but he'd be fine. In the room, no less than forty former prisoners were holding weapons of their own. A few seemed comfortable holding a weapon, others had obviously never held a weapon before in their life. So far, the plan was working, but their overflight protection had just left them and their primary barricade sheild generators were weakening. Sam wasn't going to look concerned JUST yet... they still had a few minutes. He motioned to the other two generators they had brought. "Ironhide, take Frosty with you and move these other generators to the front lines. They'll be needing them in a few minutes."

"Yes, Sir," Trace replied. He motioned to Curtis.

"What's up?" Lieutenant O'Shea asked, looking around at the scene.

"Colonel wants us to get these generators down the hall for backup." With that, he grabbed one of the footstool sized devices and began dragging it towards the left hall.

"No problem." Curtis grabbed the other unit and started dragging it off to the right. "Maybe I can ice an ugly while I'm there."

"Don't go rogue on me, Frosty," Prichard replied, not looking up from his tricorder, "just move the barricade."

"Yes, Sir," he replied dejectedly.

Picard approached the old Marine colonel. "Colonel Prichard," he began diplomatically, still holding his hand phaser, "I should like very much to help you. Is there anything I can do? I've been around the battlefield a few times myself."

Still not looking up from his tricorder, he held up his pointer finger. "Hold that thought for a sec, Admiral." He finally looked up at one of Tonok's men, who was standing over their communications relay. "Cofiss, are you reading neighbors upstairs?"

Sergeant Cofiss, a Terrellian, was holding earphones to his ears, situated lower than human ears. He didn't speak, he merely nodded.

"Well, this isn't good," Prichard remarked.

"What seems to be the problem?" Picard asked, doing his best to hide his genuine frustration at not being able to assist.

"Well, the inhibitors around the room are causing my tricorder some grief, but I'm getting a lot of noise upstairs. Sounds like we got Jem'Hadar above us. Since my 'vettes cut off their means of getting across the street, I'm guessing they transported above us." He paused for a moment, looking again at his tricorder. "Cofiss, looks like they're drilling. Is that what you're getting?"

Again, Cofiss merely nodded.

"Well, Admiral, you may get your chance." He raised his voice so everyone in the room could hear him. "I need everyone's attention. We got Jem'Hadar trying to get in from the floor above us. I'm counting three entry points. We'll be arranging you folks in teams to repel the intruders." The recently freed prisoners stood up and looked around nervously at each other. Prichard pursed his lips, then motioned for his senior officers and Picard to gather around. "Alright, everyone... we need to pinpoint exactly where these uglies are comin' down and carve up the ground under them. I don't want them getting a solid foundation to stand on. We need to assemble these people into counterstrike teams and try not to shoot each other. Tonok, you and Lucky get with Cofiss and pinpoint where they're coming down. Picard and I will group everyone and put them in their places. It really stinks that this room got emptied of furniture. SOME kind of cover would have been nice. Ironhide... you and Frosty get to our teams in the hallways. Let 'em know we're about to fight a two-front war." 


	14. Chapter 14

"Primary shields down to eighteen percent, Commander. The next impact will drop them entirely." T'Nia announced. Her voice was almost alarmed. Although she would never admit it, she was experiencing a heightened sense of urgency regarding the battle at hand. Although the plan had been devised well enough, no one had predicted the Dominions resolve, nor their willingness to commit suicide to ensure a victory. That had been the third Dominion raider to fly into the Warlord's shields at full impulse while simultaneously causing their own warp core breach. The result was a warp core explosion travelling almost at the speed of light. The effects had been... profound. The second wave of ships had also been... unexpected.

"Kenyon, how many bandits are still out there?" Kirk asked frantically.

Kenyon shook his head. They hadn't counted on a second group of ships. Apparently, there was more than just a ragtag leftover battle group of Dominion ships left behind... either that, or they had been building frantically for the past year. "I count twenty-two... four capital ships and eighteen raiders still operational. The cardassian ships count ten, but they're still staying out of the fight."

Kirk shook his head. This was too much of a fight. Almost two dozen ships had already been destroyed. By their initial count, they should have won already. This second wave of ships was just... unfair. "T'Nia, keep targetting those cruisers with the torpedoes. The LAST thing I want is one of THEM getting the notion to perform a kamikaze run, too. Bristol, spin us around their moon. Maybe we can use that for cover." To Stephen, all this did was reinforce the fact he wasn't ready for command. Why, in the WORLD, did he listen to Captain Hearne, his former captain? He could have just stayed on the Victory and been relegated to in-system patrol duty for years. The most complicated decision he would have ever had to make was a leave of absence duty roster. He couldn't admit it... he dared not admit it... not to himself or anyone else... this was exciting.

"Taking evasive to the cardassian moon, Sir," Tyler replied. His expression was of anger, not at the commander, but at himself. The damage they were suffering was his fault. Why didn't he think to use the impulse engines to turn the ship faster? His hands flew over the controls as the an image of the ship on his navigation display broke its course and headed towards the moon. How many shots did they take because of his incompetence? How many people may die because of his delusions of being a big hero?

"Incoming!" T'Nia announced loudly. Within a second, the ship shuddered slightly. "Primary shields are down!" The klaxons increased in volume. "Secondary shields at ninety-four percent."

Kirk pounded his fists against the chair arms and spun his head around. "Elaine, for the last time, shut that siren off!"

She was almost scared senseless once again. If Elaine fell to the floor again, she doubted whether she'd be able to get herself up. Absently, her hand moved over to the alert controls and touched the mute button. She stared in horrified wonder at the purple and gray ships flying around the front viewscreen. Occasionally, a purple beam of energy extended from one across the screen. Oddly enough, it was a pretty color purple... hard to imagine it could be so destructive. Then, the ship shook again, this time a bit more forcibly.

"This is not the time to panic," a voice in Stephen's mind told him. "Your voice must be calm. Your demeanor must be calm. The situation is far from hopeless, unless you believe it is." Stephen closed his eyes and prayed for calm.

"Secondary shields down to seventy-two percent." T'Nia announced.

"You got another one!" Kenyon yelled, staring at his sensor screen which was quickly filling with an orange fireball.

Kirk opened his eyes. He could feel that his heartrate had dropped. "T'Nia, when Tyler brings us around the backside of the moon, I want a full spread of torpedoes aft. Rig them to detonate one second after launch."

"Understood, Commander," she replied. Sensing the calm in him, she felt comforted and more confident. Quickly, she loaded the after tubes with five delay detonation torpedoes while the ship shook again.

"Commander," Kenyon interrupted, "I have four raiders coming from the far side of the moon. They're going to cut us off."

"That's what I'm counting on, Richards," Kirk replied. "T'Nia, you'll fire on my mark. Tyler, I'm going to need ninety degrees hard starboard and full impulse in a moment. Get ready."

"Torpedoes loaded, Commander," T'Nia announced faithfully.

"Ready when you are, Sir," Ensign Bristol added.

Kirk sprinted over T'Nia's shoulder to look at her tactical display. Gradually, the ship rounded the back of the moon until it was exactly on the far side. "Tyler, break now!"

"Got it!" Bristol yelled. Remembering his lesson with the impulse engines, the ship lunged to its right and quickly began speeding up. Four Dominion raiders rounded the moon to their left. Five raiders came up from behind to their right.

"They're locking weapons on us," Commander Richards announced.

Kirk began a silent count and closed his eyes. Hopefully, this and the moon would work to their advantage. "Fire!"

T'Nia pounded the launch controls. "Elaine, aft view on main screen now!"

Elaine quickly brought up a picture of the rear view of the ship as five red pinpoints of light shot backwards. The rightmost torpedo slammed into a raider shields, causing it to detonate prematurely. The raider exploded in a ball of fire and sparks. The other four torpedoes sped past the raiders as they flew past... and detonated just behind them. The concussion slammed several ships into each other and destroyed three ships immediately.

Kenyon nodded with a smile. "Well, that finished off six of the nine, and two of the remaining three are in some pretty bad trouble."

Kirk smiled. "And they never laid a hand on us. Mister T'Nia, finish off those three ships and load up the front weapons. By my count, there are still eight raiders and three cruisers out there."

"Dominion battlecruiser coming around the moon!" Kenyon announced.

"Brace for impac..." T'Nia began. The ship shuddered again from the impact.

"Well, it was nice while it lasted," Stephen commented to himself. 


	15. Chapter 15

"What are you waiting for?" Gelnon asked angrilly. "Or do you enjoy seeing the demise of your people?"

Ross had struggled with every step until, at last, he found himself at the communications panel. He stared at the buttons, wishing someone else would have taken this position, wishing the Dominion had never approached him, wishing he had never left his house to secretly secure materials for Gelnon and his monsters. He stood over the panel, his hand resting near the buttons that would summon his forces, knowing if he commanded them to attack the Warlord, it wouldn't survive. His hand shook.

Gelnon's glare intensified. He began to shake himself. Unless the Cardassian ships joined the fight, it was conceivable the Warlord would be victorious, and they didn't look like they were in the mood for prisoners. As it was, his plans for conquest were virtually over. The majority of one of his leftover fleets was decimated; precious few were able to fly into Warlord. He had little hope the second fleet would finish off this Starfleet warship. Now, all he was hoping for was an escape route back to the Gamma Quadrant, where he could raise another fleet, unless the spineless Tegril complied. He turned impatiently to his First, who was holding a communicator. "First, if Prefect Tegril here doesn't comply by the time I count to three, order the Fang to execute his family."

The Jem'Hadar was looking perplexed. "I've been trying to reach them for several minutes, Master." He offered. "I haven't been able to raise anyone on the Fang."

"What do you mean?" Gelnon replied angrily. In the back of his mind, he suspected what had happened, but he hoped it wasn't true. That battleship was his best bet for defeating the Warlord. He shoved Tegril aside and began manipulating the sensor screen. He couldn't find his battleship anywhere in orbit. "Where IS it?" He cried.

Ross gulped hard and picked himself up. Looking over the vorta's shoulder, he couldn't find the battleship, the vessel that held his family, and others, prisoner. Could it be the Warlord destroyed it already? His eyes welled up with the thought. "No," he thought. He had done so much, agreed to so much, deceived and betrayed so many... just for them. His eyes refused to blink as he stared at the screen.

After an eternity of seconds, the battleship's whereabouts became known as they saw the image in the upper atomosphere decending rapidly... some pieces more quickly than others. It had already broken apart into five pieces. "No!" Gelnon screamed, punching the panel with his hand. No longer holding the tears back, Ross fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands. 


	16. Chapter 16

"Tonok, get the Warlord on the horn." Prichard commanded after receiving news the first pair of shield barricades had finally collapsed. He looked up to see a number of small pinholes appearing over their heads.

"Got them, Sir," Tonok replied obediently, handing a small hand device to the colonel.

A female's voice was on the other end, as usual. A more ominous rumbling sound was suddenly heard in the background. "This is the Warlord, go ahead, Colonel."

"I was just wondering how everything was going up there, Ma'am," Colonel said cynically. He was losing patience. They had held up their end of the bargain. It had been fifteen minutes. They held their ground. It was time to drop the inhibitors and beam everyone out. The lack of communication with the Warlord was a bit disturbing. 

Commander Kirk's voice interrupted the Lieutenant's reply. "Colonel," he started quickly, "we're a little busy here." There was another rumble in the background.

"I know the feeling, Commander," Prichard said impatiently. "Our fifteen minutes is up, we've got uglies getting through the front defenses and another group burning their way through the ceiling above us. When can we expect a pickup?"

"It'll have to wait a few more minutes, Colonel," Kirk sounded completely exasperated. "There was a second fleet of Dominion ships lying in wait..."

Another voice in the background interrupted the commander, "Commander, secondary shields are down to forty percent!"

The female lieutenant's voice interrupted as well, "I'm getting damage reports all over the ship, Sir."

"We're doing the best we can, Colonel. Just hold on a few more minutes. This thing is going to be over soon, one way or another. Kirk out."

Prichard pursed his lips and blinked at the vulcan captain several times before handing the communicator back. "Well," he started slowly, "I had expected that conversation to go a little differently. We'll need to manufacture some defenses to this room." He stared at his tricorder as the ceiling above him began to spark. "My tricorder says there isn't anything below us. Are you reading that?" Tonok used the relay in front of him to confirm the colonel's assessment, then nodded his head. The third sublevel was the bottom of the building.

Prichard nodded. He yelled over the phaser and disruptor fire, "Picard, Callis, I need you here!" He motioned for the two admirals to join him as he motioned to his own senior officers. As they approached, he began. "Alright, everyone... looks like we're gonna have to dig in for a few more minutes. Get the phaser rifles and carve out some trenches in the floor near the perimeter of the room. I need 'em long enough for everyone to fit and deep enough to give us decent cover."

There was a disturbing announcement from the left hall. "Grenade!" A muffled explosion shook the left hallway, causing the room to shake, ceiling particles to fall, and the light to flash again.

"Great..." Prichard commented. "Okay, I need the trenches a at least a meter deep and it looks like we've only got two or three minutes before we're overrun. Let's move, people!" 


	17. Chapter 17

The violent shudder of the ship caused Bolerov to awaken from his alchohol induced slumber, causing him to drop his empty vodka bottle. It hit the floor and shattered. His semi-conscious eyes attempted to focus on an image flying past his exterior windows. When they finally came into focus, he sat up, terrified, from his ancient leather seat. It was a Dominion cruiser; an ominous, giant, gray batlike ship with eerie purple lights running down its side and bottom. A purple ray of polaron energy shot from its underside, causing the Warlord to shake again.

Smoke had partially filled the bridge, causing the few remaining conscious crew to cough. The Vigilant rocked from the impact of another enemy beam as another cruiser streamed past the hazy viewscreen. "It's no use, Sir," Lieutenant Bosa admitted from her science console. "Auxiliary power is gone. We're running on batteries."

O'Neill turned from the blown out remains of his navigation console. The right side of his face and arm were badly burned, his uniform melted to his skin. Somehow, despite the pain, he stayed at his post, obviously the result of years of training and experience. "I've got nothing, Sir. My console is completely dead." He was breathing heavy.

The red, flashing alarm lights of the Vigilant and two computer panels were the only things illuminating the bridge. As Bolerov surveyed the remains of his bridge, he came to the inescapable conclusion the fight was over. Thankfully, the auxiliary navigation panel on his command chair could still operate the maneuvering thrusters, but the weapons and shields were gone. Of the ten people stationed on the bridge, only four were still alive. He turned to his communications officer "Lieutenant Curran," he never thought he'd hear himself say this... "alert the crew... abandon ship. All hands, abandon ship."

"Aye, aye, Sir," she answered reluctantly. It had been her home for seven years... so many personal effects from the placed they'd been... so much sentimental value. She pressed the buttons to activate the shipwide communications system.

Just then, another weapons impact rocked the ship. Sparks flew as power conduit tore. The overhead glass housing the lighting system shattered, sending shards of glass everywhere. Unfortunately for Leslie Curran, a support beam broke free from the ceiling crashing down on her seat. She never had time to escape or send the message. The beam pinned her to the floor, crushing her body and the chair she sat on. Captain Bolerov saw the horrific scene and sprang. Holding onto the guard rail with one hand, he lept over it in one jump and straddled the falled beam. Pressing the comm button on the fallen officer's panel, he announced, "All hands abandon ship, I repeat all hands abandon ship!"

His science and navigation officers looked worriedly at him. Bosa had a large gash across her forehead from flying debris. O'Neill looked like he was slowly losing consciousness. He nodded to them with a smile. "That means you... get out." Another shot rocked the ship, blowing out yet another panel on the bridge. Sparks rained from the shorted-out ceiling power junctures.

They slowly stood up. O'Neill already knew the answer, but he had to ask. "Are you coming, Sir?" he staggered towards the escape pod entry door to the rear of the bridge.

Bolerov shook his head. "I'm going to run interference for the rest of you. That Gem'Hadar cruiser had her shields knocked down pretty badly when last we saw. Maybe I ram it and buy you some more time."

Reluctantly, the remainder of the crew boarded an escape pod as the captain raced for the remainder of the navigation console. With a loud 'whoosh', it shot itself into space, leaving only Bolerov, who allowed himself the pride of watching he beloved crew escape. Dropping to one knee, he set course for the nearest cruiser, which had engaged the USS Repulse. Hopefully, he'd be able to ram it, drawing attention to himself... and take out one, last enemy in the process. He engaged the aft thrusters to full power. Andrei squinted at the snowy viewscreen and smiled as the image of the Dominion cruiser grew larger and larger. What he wasn't expecting was another cruiser attacking the Vigilant from behind. He saw it too late to attempt any kind of evasive maneuver. The attack destroyed the thrusters, the impact causing the Vigilant to spin slowly on its X axis. The ship he aimed for moved harmlessly away. The explosion had far worse effects, however. All but the mostly snow-filled viewscreen, turbolift lights and red alert blinking lights were all that remained of the battery power. All other systems were gone, including life support. He coughed and choked for air, the filters no longer working and bridge completely filled with smoke and flames. He'd have to wait for death to take him slowly.

Then, amid the snow and lines of the failing viewscreen, to his horror, he was witness to the worst nightmare a captain could ever see. "No!" he screamed. "No, no, no! Please no! STOP! For the love of got stop!" he screamed at the image before him, but it was too late. He was losing consciousness and full of remorse. As his vision blurred from oxygen depravation and tears, he fell on all fours, feeling pain shoot through his right hand. He held his hand up and turned it over to see a large shard of glass poking into it. Painfully, he removed it...

Andrei Bolerov stared at the shard of broken glass from his vodka bottle still thinking he was on the bridge of the Vigilant. Still on his knees, he looked at the glass and his hand. He coughed again from the smoke that wasn't present. His crew gone, his mission failed, his life already forfeit, he cried once more for the friends he had lost and did what smoke inhalation wouldn't let him do aboard the Vigilant... he raked the shard of glass across his wrist and smiled... he'd finally feel the peace he was looking for. 


	18. Chapter 18

Gelnon stared at the image of his precious, disintegrating battleship longingly. His chances for success were dwindling rapidly and all because of a handful of diplomats and a leader who didn't know when to shut up. Looking more closely at the scan of the Warlord, he could see it was finally taking some damage. Somehow, that didn't comfort him as much as he would have liked. Behind him, his last hope of either salvage or escape was weeping uncontrolably on his knees. Gelnon reached down and grabbed Ross by his face. "The Federation has killed your family, but you have millions of Cardassians still at risk! Order your people to engage your enemy!"

"Engage your enemy, engage your enemy, engage your enemy..." those words cut through Ross' remorse. He had endured so much just to keep them safe. He put his entire planet at risk to save two people... two people he cherished more than his own life. Now, they were gone. His reason for living was gone. All he had left was a failing government which he was in charge of. "Engage your enemy," Gelnon's voice repeated in his head. His eyes still blurry with tears, he looked up at the pale-faced person who had dominated his life for almost a year. The person who had manipulated him, enticed him, bribed him, deceived him, and finally... cost him everything. Tegril's was a look of defiance. "Fine," he said quietly. Slowly, he stood up and straighted his uniform. This would be his last moment of life... he would live it with the dignity and fortitude he should have had for the past year.

He stepped forward to the communications panel. Next to it, he saw the satellite relay of what was occurring in space just above his home. Warlord was damaged, but skirting past the moon with a cruiser not far behind. Waiting between the moon and Cardassia Prime were three smaller, crab-looking attack fighters. Not far away, five Galor-class Cardassian cruisers sat and waited. The Dominion numbers had dwindled to eight, clearly demonstrating the Starfleet vessel's firepower. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for what he knew would be the last thing he ever did.

Tegril pressed several buttons on the communications panel that opened a public address frequency that would be heard both on the ground and in the air. Gelnon tensed, waiting to hear the words Ross Tegril, the cardassian he put into power. Making a quick nod to his First, the Jem'Hadar slipped his finger over the safety setting of his weapon, activating it. "This is Prefect Ross Tegril," he began, his voice shaking, "there are people both on the ground and in space who claim to have our best interests at heart. They are liars and deceivers. They have been here before under the guise of peace only to start a war. We can sit on the sidelines no longer. Rise up and destroy the Dominion! Take our planet..."

At the nod from his master, the Jem'Hadar fired his weapon into Tegril's back. As Ross' lifeless body slumped to the ground, Gelnon realized it was too late. The damage had been done. He had but one option left. He turned to his First. "I need one of the two remaining cruisers brought into orbit immediately. Order them to beam us aboard. We need to leave while we can."

"What about the Founder?" the Jem'Hadar asked. "Our mission was to free her."

"That will have to wait," Gelnon replied calmly. "We can't very well do that if we're dead."

Barely audible to all but the vorta, shouts of cardassian rage could be heard from the streets, and it was getting louder. 


	19. Chapter 19

"Where are they?" Stephen yelled to Richards.

"Zero four two mark zero zero one azimuth," Kenyon replied quickly. Part of the port armor plating had already been destroyed. Although the power had been rerouted to the backup system, the Dominion had been targeting it faithfully ever since. The port nacell had already been damaged to the point of uselessness. "They're just waiting for us to come around."

Kirk shook his head. There were only eight left, and six of them were the small, raider ships. Their shields, however, were down to thirty percent. His mind briefly started dwelling on quality of the idea to disobey a direct order and attempt to save the hostages. He shook his head violently as another polaron weapon struck the ship, causing another violent shudder. Now was not the time to think about this. He had another idea. "Okay, T'Nia, re-engage the auto-fire on these four ships around us."

"Three of them are not yet in range," she replied.

"They will be in just a moment," Kirk countered. "Tyler, on my signal, I want a hard burn to port. Bring us to one five one mark zero one two. You throw us out there, then spin one more hard one eighty. T'Nia, as soon as Warlord spins, engage the autofire." This was, yet another, dangerous move. But, since he was making so many potentially horrible decisions already, what was one more, he thought. He may as well get court-martialed for something good.

T'Nia complied as Tyler banged in the course setting. "Commander," T'Nia began, "at this range, all four enemy vessels will be destroyed. The resulting explosions will be quite... dangerous."

Kirk nodded. "I figured. But our armor will take a number of general explosions better than a handful of directed polaron beams," he said with a shrug.

T'Nia briefly looked back at her friend and commander. She saw and felt great stress in him, yet... unseen to anyone else, he smiled quickly and winked. "Your logic is quite sound," she said, turning back around.

"Alright, people... get ready..." Kirk commanded. He once again stood from his seat.

"Commander, I'm getting a communication from the planet surface from its public broadcasting frequency!" Elaine yelled. She strained to playback the message to determine its contents.

"We can't worry about that now," Kirk countered.

"Commander, the cardassian ships are moving!" Kenyon added.

Kirk's eyes bulged. He turned to stare at Kenyon. "Okay, maybe we can worry about THAT." Another blast rocked the Warlord, causing more alarms to sound. "Elaine," he stated, pointing his thumb to the alarm above his head. This time, he learned from his earlier loss of calm and gave her a smile instead.

Elaine had been panicked several times almost to hyperventilation. As she turned to look at the commander speaking her name, she saw him motioning to the alarm that wouldn't stay off. This time, he smiled at her. Somehow, that made all her worries melt. She couldn't help but smile back. "Sorry, Sir," she remarked, then turned off the alarm one more time.

Kirk turned back to the second officer, shaking his head. "Figures, they stay out of it this long, now... we're almost done..."

Kenyon's smile lit up the room. "They're on an intercept course for the Dominion ships! They're loading weapons!"

Kirk wasn't optimistic yet. "Are they backing the Dominion up or blowing them up?" he asked.

Elaine slammed her earpiece to the panel. "Sir, the cardassian Prefect ordered his forces to engage the Dominion!" On the tactical screen, five Galor class ships accellerated towards the three Dominion ships that had been laying in wait just around the moon and began firing. The bridge crew cheered until another bolt from the attacking cruiser struck the unarmored port hull of the Warlord, sending sparks from a pair of overloaded power conduits above the bridge.

Kirk, now filled once more with defiance, spun back to the two in front of him, who were facing the viewscreen. "Alright... let's finish this. Tyler, spin us around. T'Nia, make that thing go away."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Tyler replied with a smile.

"Certainly, Sir," T'Nia replied emotionlessly. As Ensign Bristol spun the ship around, T'Nia targeted the attacking cruiser with all forward firing weapons. 


	20. Chapter 20

Colonel Prichard looked up at the ceiling, riddled with small holes and dips from Dominion gunfire above. As he looked down, he saw the floor completely torn apart with large trenches dividing it. One last group was still carving holes in the floor with their phasers. Listening to either side, he heard the muffled sounds of large ordinance impacting the shield barricades that had been erected between his soldiers and the Jem'Hadar on the other side. The enemy was slowly overwhelming the halls and making their way through the ceiling. He shook his head. "Just another day at the office," he said aloud.

Captain Tonok was still commanding the communications device near the center of the room. He turned to look at his commander with a typical, vulcan, raised eyebrow. "Sir?" he questioned.

Prichard smiled. "Never mind." He pointed to the two crates that had beamed down with them. "How many more grenades do we have left?"

Tonok made a quick count. "Four, Colonel," he replied calmly.

"That'll do. Move our relay into one of the trenches." He raised his eyebrows several times. "I have an idea that just might buy us a few more minutes." Tonok picked up the heavy device and moved it away from the center of the room, carefully avoiding the torn up floor areas meant to provide obstacles for the Jem'Hadar above them. Prichard motioned to Captain Connor. "Ironhide, get your butt over here. Lucky, you, too." Quickly, they sidestepped their way to the center of the room. "Ironhide, how good's that throwing arm of yours?"

Trace nodded. "Pretty good. Baseball season's been over for a couple of months..."

Prichard interrupted him. "Good. Grab one of those grenades out of the crate."

Captain Connor nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Prichard turned to his red-headed, female platoon leader. "Lucky, we're gonna make the room above us collapse. Have your people cut me a hole in the middle of the ceiling about five meters in diameter. Have them start when I give you the signal."

"Isn't that what the Dominion are trying to do?" Lieutenant Thackery asked.

Prichard nodded. "Yep, but their weapons are anti-personnel. Phasers are a little more flexible than that. They won't be expecting us to cut the whole floor out from under 'em... especially after what we're gonna do to 'em. Go."

"Yes, Sir," she replied, then headed out to the various trenches in the room.

"Got the grenade, Sir. What's up?" Connor asked, tossing the grenade in his hand as flakes of ceiling tile gently floated to the floor.

Prichard raised his phaser rifle and changed some settings. "I'm gonna carve me a hole in the ceiling... ten centimeters wide or so. Think you can toss a grenade up a hole like that?"

Connor thought for a moment, then nodded. "I'll need to get under it."

Prichard finished his setting changed and raised up the rifle. "Then let's knock out some uglies." He pointed to the ceiling, then opened fire. A steady stream of orange and red energy fired from the rifle and impacted the ceiling, causing sparks and debris to fly everywhere. Connor raced under the hole and pulled the pin on the grenade, holding the safety button in until he was ready to throw. The sparks and debris grew less and less. "Get ready!" Connor cocked his arm. At last, the beam shot straight through the ceiling and the debris stopped falling. Prichard quickly ceased firing. "Go!" Connor let go of the safety button, then tossed it straight up.

The two watched as the grenade flew up through the hole. Apparently, someone above them had guessed the colonel's plan a moment too late. As the grenade went out the other side of the hole, an object resembling a table was tossed onto the hole. There was a muffled popping sound. Prichard looked at Connor. "Let's hope that worked. Everyone, clear out of the center of the room! Dive for the ditches!" People ran for the trenches at the corners of the room.

As Prichard headed for the trench where Tonok was located, he could see the vulcan had finished a conversation. "Colonel, you may be interested to know that Warlord says reinforcements are coming."

"Huh? We ARE the reinforcements." Prichard countered. Shouts of joy suddenly came from the left hallway, followed quickly by the right. Prichard shrugged. "I guess the reinforcements are here." The two got up and headed down the left hall. What they saw caused Prichard to shake Tonok's hand. Dozens of cardassians, some in military uniforms, others in civilian clothes came flooding down the stairs carrying a large array of weapons from disruptor rifles to clubs. The thirty Jem'Hadar that had taken position between the stairs and the hallways were very quickly overwhelmed by the numbers and were dispatched within seconds. 

As Prichard smiled, a loud crash came from the holding room. White smoke and debris poured from the room, spilling into the hall. Prichard ran into the room coughing from the dust. Squinting through the debris, several cardassians were piled on the floor, laying over dozens of unconscious Jem'Hadar and floor chunks. The few cardassians who were conscious were laughing. Tonok came in behind Prichard.

"I guess they exceeded the new floor tolerance," Prichard offered, still coughing. 


	21. Chapter 21

The bridge crew looked at battle before them with smiles, handshakes of congratulations and cheers. Kenyon turned from the forward viewscreen to his sensor panel and looked on. Something didn't look right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He saw the eleven Galor class cardassian cruisers as they returned to an orbital formation around Cardassia Prime. Something else was wrong... and once Kenyon was unsettled about something, he wouldn't give up until he discovered the problem. It didn't take him long. "Commander," he started, trying to get his voice above the other five, who were congratulating each other and reminiscing about different points of the battle. "Commander!" he repeated loudly.

Instantly, the group was quiet. Kirk looked over to the second officer. "What's up, Richards?" Kirk attempted to hide any potential concern expressed by Richards' face.

"I'm missing one, Sir," Kenyon replied. His concern grew as he returned to his sensor panel.

"You're missing one what?" Kirk asked perplexed.

"I'm missing a Dominion ship, Sir. I count only seven. One of the cruisers is missing from the body count."

Kirk darted for the captain's seat as the remainder of the crew jumped into theirs. He pointed to Commander Richards. "Start the tachyon bursts and don't stop until you've located him. There won't be any third act to THIS play." Kirk's look was determined. After everything they've been through, to have even one ship escape would defeat their entire purpose. He wasn't going to let anything escape... not ANOTHER mistake.

Kenyon quickly complied as he continued staring at his panel. "Cardassian space is pretty big, Sir. Our burst doesn't cover much."

Kirk considered the statement as he rapped his fingers against the arm of the seat. He snapped his fingers. "Kenyon, get your eyes on Cardassia. Is the Vorta still in the council building?"

Kenyon smiled, then looked back at his panel. It was an excellent idea. In the absence of a Founder, creatures the Dominion revered as gods, the Vorta were the next best thing. Unable to get a good look at the planet's surface, he shook his head. "I'm too far away from Cardassia Prime to get a look. I need us closer."

Kirk quickly spun over to Tyler Bristol, who was already banging away at his navigation console. "Tyler, get us over to..."

"I'm already on it, Sir!" he yelled excitedly. Tyler wasn't about to get accused of being too slow this time. The great ship completed its swing around Cardassia's only moon and sped towards the tan and brown planet. Kirk nodded. He hoped his gamble worked.

Several precious minutes passed by as the image of Cardassia Prime grew larger. A muffled, high-pitched ding from Richards' sensor panel went off at the same time he pounded the panel with his fist. "He's still there!"

Stephen smiled grimly. "They won't leave without him. That cruiser's around here somewhere," he announced. "Keep your eyes open and the bursts coming. Tyler, plant us right above the council building."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Tyler replied obediently.

Elaine turned around. "Commander Kirk, I have Gul Nethek of the cardassian cruiser Likell on the line. He wants to know what you're doing."

"Tell him," he started quickly, then stopped short. What if the missing ship was monitoring communications? He had to come up with something quickly... something that might fool the remaining ship into revealing itself. "Ooo... tell him that our transporters are losing power but we need to beam aboard the vorta as a bargaining chip."

"I beg your pardon?" Elaine asked.

Kirk looked insistent. "Just do it. I'll explain in just a second." Lieutenant Davies nodded reluctantly, then returned to her console to relay the message. Stephen turned to T'Nia. By the expression on her face, she had already guessed the ploy. "T'Nia, load up a torpedo and get ready to drop the shields. Kenyon, I need you to bang away at that tachyon emitter on my mark."

"I understand your strategy," T'Nia offered, "but what if the Dominion vessel left to get reinforcements?"

"No chance," Kirk countered. "There's no way they'd leave this system without him." He paused for several seconds. "T'Nia, drop the shields," Stephen paused for several more moments. "Please, Lord," he thought to himself, "let me be right." He turned to Richards. "Now!" 


	22. Chapter 22

"Master, the cruiser has achieved orbit and will be able to transport us aboard in less than three minutes," the loyal Jem'Hadar, First, announced.

"Excellent," Gelnon replied with a hiss. "Hopefully, our improvised barricades will keep the locals at bay until it gets here." He motioned with his hands at the three doors linking the meeting room to the rest of the building. He had ordered his soldiers to shoot the two dozen cardassians who had assisted Ross Tegril in taking over the leadership and piled the bodies, along with as much furniture as they could find, against the doors. Already there was pounding and yelling from the other side. Rocks had been thrown against the windows of the large meeting hall. Thankfully, the paranoia of the cardassian government had replaced the original glass with a virtually impenetrable transparant material.

This entire plan had turned into a complete fiasco. Gelnon pounded the center table in frustration and turned to face the opposite wall, dominated with a giant sideways Cardassian flag. The mistake was in picking Ross Tegril. He had been quietly looking for someone in politics who was fiercely devoted to their family for several weeks before he stumbled across Tegril. After arranging a few 'accidents' to his rivals on Cardassia IV... nothing deadly... just enough to put Ross in the forefront of politics, Ross was a rising star and Gelnon was pulling the strings. Taking Ross' family was just supposed to be extra insurance for cooperation, but it changed the man. He became spineless, worried, almost paranoid. In the beginning, that was a positive change for Gelnon's purpose. As time continued, though, it made him indecisive, hesitant... nervous. He should have picked someone stronger.

"Master!" First said with uncharacteristic alarm, staring at the communications panel. "The Warlord is heading towards Cardassia Prime! They're falling into position directly above the building!"

The pounding against the doors became louder. At last, the improvised barricades began to give way. "This is intolerable. What is Warlord doing?" He did his best to look impatient in front of the other Jem'Hadar. After all, a personal servant to the Founders couldn't afford to look panicked. Yet, the failure of his fleet to stop a single Federation ship, the betrayal of his hand-picked cardassian puppet, and now the imminent overrun of their final stronghold was weighing heavily on him.

"They intercepted a communication from Warlord. They mean to beam you aboard their vessel and use you as a bargaining chip for the hostages."

"That is unacceptable." Gelnon's face now expressed the fear he had felt for the past several minutes. "Have the cruiser pick me up this instant!"

"Master, if they pass too closely, Warlord's sensors will detect them. We have already seen they are capable..."

"Did you not hear me? Do it now! I can't be taken by the Warlord. Do it now!"

Quickly, the loyal soldier ordered the cruiser to come within line-of-sight to the council building as one of the barricades crumbled. He ordered his men to fire at will against the oncoming crowd of enraged cardassians. Although several natives fell under the weaponsfire, more continued to pour into the upper levels of the room, taking defensive positions along the top tables. Then, the second door burst open allowing even more cardassian entry. They began to return fire.

Gelnon ducked behind the main desk at the bottom as disruptor fire pierced the ground where he had just stood. "What's keeping them?" he snapped. Two Jem'Hadar fell, then two more.

First looked at the panel and tapped his communicator in between weapon discharges. "They're coming." Seconds later, he added, "Warlord detected them with a tachyon pulse." The third door burst open under stress of cardassian weapons fire. Slowly, the oncoming forces began taking the middle levels of the large meeting hall. Three more Jem'Hadar fell. Only First and two others remained besides Gelnon. First looked gravely at Gelnon. "Their last communication was that Warlord fired a torpedo. The cruiser has been destroyed, Master."

Gelnon stared at his First in disbelief. His last hope of escape had been destroyed. Another Jem'Hadar fell to the ground dead. "I have failed you, Master. I apologize." First offered. He stood to face his attackers and began firing wildly while Gelnon sank behind the desk further. Within moments, First fell backwards to the ground; two large holes burned into his chest and head.

As the last Jem'Hadar soldier fell under the overwhelming force in the room, the crowd cheered in angry defiance as they forcibly removed Gelnon from his hiding place... and while he was still screaming for mercy, they dismembered him. 


	23. Chapter 23

"Nice shooting, Mister T'Nia," Stephen said with a warm smile. The bridge crew watched with more cheering as the cloaked and unshielded Dominion cruiser exploded in a silent ball of light and debris.

"Thank you, Sir," she replied monotonously. As Stephen observed her face, he almost made out the vague image of a smile quickly cross her face.

They had done it. The odds were terrible, and they almost didn't make it... but that didn't matter. They MADE it. Stephen settled back into the captain's seat, ran his fingers through his hair and let out a deep breath of relief. The gamble had paid off. Cardassia was safe, the hostages were safe, and the Dominion was erased from the Alpha Quadrant... again. "I wonder how many more pockets of these guys are still left," Stephen wondered to himself. He decided against thinking about that any further. This was a time for celebration.

Elaine, once again, spun in her seat to face the commander. "Commander, I have Colonel Prichard on a video link." She was smiling.

"Put him on screen, Lieutenant," Kirk replied, smiling as well. 

A frighteningly large image of the middle-aged, unshaven colonel filled the viewscreen. He noticed the smiling faces lining the bridge crew and let out a sigh of relief. "I take it things have taken a better turn since we talked last." Behind the colonel were several marines helping cardassians to stand. Apparently, part of the ceiling had collapsed sending several people to the room they were defending. From the lack of Jem'Hadar faces, it would seem their ordeal had ended successfully as well.

Stephen nodded. "We just cleaned up the last of them." He reconsidered his statement. After all, Starfleet had made the same claim last time. "Well, I think we did. I suppose something could still be hiding around here somewhere."

Prichard shook his head. "That's nothing for us to worry about, Commander. The hostages are secured, but a few of them have suffered some injuries. A couple of my men are a little chopped up, too. I don't suppose you could get us the hell out of here, could you?" He offered with a smile.

"Agreed. Are the Federation delegates with you?" Kirk asked.

Prichard reached forward, presumably to the communications relay. The image on the viewscreen zoomed out to encompass more of the room, which was a collapsed mess of fallen ceiling chunks and great ruptures in the floor. To Prichard's left, however, was a very dusty and uniform-ripped Admiral Picard, who was breathing heavily, but smiling. "We are, indeed, Commander... and in desperate need of a shower and change of clothes." Behind him, the other four delegates were cautiously making their way towards him, carefully side-stepping the rubble and debris along the ground.

"No problem," Kirk replied. "I'll have our transporters bring you aboard..."

"Oh, my god!" Elaine exclaimed from behind Stephen. Instantly, everyone turned around to face her. Lieutenant Davies was still staring at his communications relay display. After clearing a number of damage reports, injury reports, and section status updates, she had come to an automated alert indicating a lifesigns warning in the captain's quarters.

Stephen jumped over the rear guard rail and headed towards Davies' console as Prichard and Picard looked on from their relay with concern. As Stephen approached her panel, he saw the words 'Lifesigns failing. Death immanent.' on the details of the message. The time was eleven minutes ago. "Oh, no," he whispered.

"I don't know how I missed it," Elaine said, in shock. "I mean, we had warnings going off all over the place..."

Kirk hit his comm badge hard as he sprinted for the turbolift. "Kirk to Doctor Rass!" As he approached the sliding double doors, the slid open with a hiss. Kirk pointed to Richards. "You have the con! Get our people aboard!"

Kirk's badge popped. "Rass here. What's going... "

Kirk interrupted quickly. "I need you to meet me at Captain Bolerov's quarters immediately!" He jumped into the turbolift. "Computer, deck three!" 


	24. Chapter 24

Dorrin Rass was stooping over an engineer with a mild concussion when Commander Kirk called him. His voice was extremely agitated. "Kirk to Doctor Rass!" the commander's voice screamed across his comm badge.

Standing up, he pressed his badge. "Rass here. What's going... " he started.

"I need you to meet me at Captain Bolerov's quarters immediately!" Kirk replied quickly. Rass quickly examined his surroundings. There were four crewmembers either seated or standing next to him. His current patient, the mild concussion, was in pretty good shape. The other injuries looked painful, but not life threatening. He really didn't want to abandon his patients... especially when it meant turning them over to HIM... the EMH. Sure, the Emergency Medical Hologram had performed admirably most times, but it was just so COCKY... as if it had any chance of being as good as HIM. Still, the sound of the commander's voice was upset enough to make Dorrin think he had better get there.

He looked at the crewmen in front of him. "Okay, guys... I need you to take this man and help him to sickbay." He let out a deep breath. "Invoke the EMH. He can help you recover from these injuries, okay?" Silently, they nodded and picked up their crewmate. "Alright then... off with you. I'll be in to check up on you shortly." With that, the four limped down the corridor to the nearest turbolift. Dorrin watched them leave for a few seconds, before hoisting himself up off the floor with his medkit as fast as his legs would let him and swiftly heading the other direction. He tapped his comm badge one more time. "Rass to Commander Kirk,"

His badge popped. "Kirk here. Are you on your way?" He sounded out of breath.

Dorrin approached the doors to a turbolift, which opened automatically for him. "I'm entering a turbolift now. I'll be there in just a few minutes. What's going on?" The doors slid closed. "Deck three, officers' quarters," he announced to the air.

"About fifteen minutes ago, the lifesign alert went off in the captain's quarters. Elaine didn't see with all the other stuff going on. I don't suppose you caught it?" Kirk asked expectantly.

Doctor Rass shook his head. "I think I get emergency notifications like that in my office. I haven't been there for at least twenty minutes with all the injuries."

"Rats."

The chamber stopped, then began moving sideways. "I should be there in just a moment. What was the alert?"

"Something about 'death immanent.' That was all I needed to see. We must have taken a hit there we didn't know about, or something fell on him."

The small room came to a stop and the doors opened with a quiet hiss. The captain's quarters were just down the hall and to the right. With a couple of long sprints, he approached the door. "Okay, I'm here."

"My turbolift just stopped. I'm right behind you. Kirk out."

Dorrin tapped the entry request panel. "Captain, can you hear me? Can you open the door?" He waited three seconds, then issued the medical override. "Computer; override door lock on the captain's quarters. Authorization; Rass, delta one two delta." There was a chirp from the computer panel and the door slid open. He took a step inside and looked to his right. On the ground, in front of his favorite leather chair and next to a shattered bottle lay Captain Bolerov... face down in a large pool of blood. Dorrin quickly withdrew his tricorder and threw his medkit to the ground.

Dropping to his knees next to the body, he took a quick scan. As he feared, the captain was already dead. "By the prophets," he whispered to himself.

Quick and heavy footfalls told Doctor Rass that Commander Kirk was fast approaching. He turned to look as Stephen raced into the room. His eyes bulged in horror as he came to a stop so quickly, he fell backwards and sat down. "Oh, no," was all he could say. Part of him wanted to be nauseated by the vision, but shock kept his eyes locked squarely on the gruesome scene before him.

Dorrin turned back around and gently turned the body over. Bolerov's face was covered in blood, yet... there was a smile on his face. As the body turned over, a large sliver of glass fell from his right hand. A large, jagged gash dominated the captain's left wrist, the source of the blood. Dorrin slowly closed his tricorder and whispered a prayer of passing.

"Was it..." Kirk finally managed to stammer.

Doctor Rass held up his hand. "A suicide? I think so. I'll need to perform an autopsy just to be sure, but I smelled the alchohol as soon as I got in the room." He turned slowly to see Stephen, who was struggling to hold back the tears. "I'm sorry, Stephen." 


	25. Chapter 25

"Captain's log, stardate: 57029.1, Commander Kirk reporting. The Detapa Council on Cardassia has elected Elim Gerak as their new chief councilman. He invited the Federation delegates and me down to Cardassia Prime to formally express his gratitude. I... politely declined. I really didn't want to be there. Actually, I'd just like to climb into a hole for awhile. Anyway, once that's done, we're breaking orbit and heading for home. Doctor Rass confirmed his initial findings as to Captain Bolerov's cause of death. We'll hold a service for him tomorrow. Thankfully, Admiral Picard has offered to lead the service."

Elim Gerak, the newly elected Chief Councilman, stood at the bottom level of the large meeting chamber. Most of the chairs had been replaced to their original locations. The once ornate trio of doors leading to the hall had been completely removed. The bodies and the blood had been removed and cleaned. With the exception of a few missing tables and chairs, the unknowing wouldn't even suspect a bloody massacre had occured in that very room the day before. The oranate, circular room was mostly full with representatives of the various districts within the Cardassian Union. Ringing the upper ring of the room were several armed, cardassian guards. Standing with Gerak were several of his aides. They stood across from the Federation peace delegation. Admiral Picard stood in front of Doctor Leslie McIntyre, Ambassador Arianna Liss, Ambassador Solek and Admiral Alan Callis.

Behind them, seated in two chair along the bottom ring of seats, sat the widow and daughter of Ross Tegril, successfully rescued by the Manta Ray from the Dominion battleship. The other rescued families sat in the ring of seats near the top. They were all dressed in gray, the ceremonial color of mourning for Cardassian culture. Regretfully, for all reasons of patriotism and family protection, their fallen husbands and wifes would forever be branded as traitors. Tegril's death, however, warranted him at least a minimal amount of dignity. The surviving family members of each household had hoped to thank the Warlord commander personally, but he was unable to attend due to pressing issues stemming from the battle.

Gerak offered Admiral Picard a tight, warm handshake and a tired smile. "Admiral, it would seem that, once again, we are indebted to the Federation for saving us from ourselves. This is becoming a rather unfortunate habit for us."

"I'm just grateful it's all over. Now we can put all this behind us and move forward." Picard replied with a smile.

"I wish I was as confident as you, Admiral," Gerak admitted finally. "I'm afraid recent events have proven we're still a people looking to find our way." It was a difficult admission for Gerak and it showed on his face. He hid his disgrace well, but not well enough. Ages ago, cardassians were known throughout the galaxy for their art and architecture. Those were the days he remembered fondly, though mostly through the eyes of a young boy. The Cardassia he was entirely too familiar with included militaristic behavior, the Obsidian Order visiting the homes of dissenters in the middle of the night, galactic expansion at any cost and war with anyone who interfered. Most recently, they were nothing more than puppets for the powerful who promised to share their influence. After his exile, the last thing he wanted to do was set foot on Cardassia again, yet the return of his patriotism was inevitable. Now, he was virtually forced into a political position he didn't want.

"Perhaps we can help you find your way," Picard offered thoughtfully.

Gerak shook his head and smiled. This would be his first decision as head of the new Detapa Council. "No, Admiral, though I appreciate the offer. I think we're going to have to learn to walk on our own before we can walk with others." His expression became remorseful. "I'm truly sorry you endured so much for no reason, Admiral... and your colleagues."

Picard did his best to hide his disappointment. After all, it was a logical conclusion to draw from the events that transpired over the past two days. "I understand, Gerak. However, due to our presence, the hidden Dominion threat was exposed and removed from Cardassia. To me, that was a very good reason for coming."

Gerak smiled. "Quite true, Admiral," he admitted. "And... rest assured... you have a true ally in the Cardassian Union. I promise that. We won't forget the sacrifices you've made, both now and before. And now," he motioned to the crowd present, "ALL of Cardassia is grateful." With that, the entire assemblage stood and applauded.

Once the applause died down, Picard concluded. "Then, on behalf of the Federation, we are grateful for the alliance we reinforced today and look forward to the day when we can be more." The assemblage applauded once again.

Gerak shook Picard's hand once more. "As far as it is in my power, I will encourage that day to come soon, Admiral." He then shook the hands of each of the delegates, thanking them for their willingness and apologizing for their treatment. 

With applause still ringing through the room, Admiral Picard tapped his comm badge. "Picard to Warlord... five to beam up." 


	26. Chapter 26

Admiral Picard stood outside the double doors of the shuttle bay and stared at it for several moments. No matter how many times he gave a eulogy, it was never comfortable. Today's would be even more so. What do you say about a man whom you knew differenly than his current crew? Jean-Luc had already talked to several of the crew. They had found his old crewmate to be cold, detached, and stubborn. That was certainly not the man he remembered. But... with the events of the past few days still weighing heavily on his mind, Picard had found it difficult to organize his thoughts. At last, the time for the memorial service had come, and he still had no idea what he was going to say. Reluctantly, Jean-Luc took a deep breath and let it out before approaching the doors, which slid open with the sound of heavy gears behind them.

At the center of the floor was a large torpedo casing resting against the shuttle launch catapult. Standing around the makeshift casket with a Federation flag draped over it was the Warlord's senior bridge crew; Commander Kirk, Commander Richards, Lieutenant Commander T'Nia, Lieutenant Davies, Lieutenant Moreau, Lieutenant Kelly, Ensign Bristol and Doctor Rass all dressed in their dress uniforms. Also surrounding the casket was the remainder of the diplomatic team; Ambassador Solek, Admiral Callis, Doctor McIntyre, and Ambassador Riss. Standing against the walls were several off-duty crew as well as an ensign holding a trumpet. They all stood virtually motionless save Commander Kirk, who was pulling at his collar as T'Nia barely rolled her eyes. As Picard walked through the doors, they turned to face him somberly. An intentional gap had been left at the front of the torpedo.

"Thank you all for coming," Picard stated slowly as he approached the gap. He took another deep breath. "We come here today mourn the loss and celebrate the life of Captain Andrei Alexandrovich Bolerov, and I think it's important we do both. While I'm certain you will remember him in your own way, I'd like to share with you a few of my memories of him when we served together aboard the Stargazer. You see, my knowledge of the man you called 'captain' are well over thirty years old... when we both had less experience," he absently ran his fingers over his hairless head, "and more hair. He was a fresh Starfleet Academy graduate; wide-eyed and ready to set the galaxy on fire. I was actually the person who gave him his orientation." He smiled with the memory. "Believe it or not, he made friends quite quickly and earned our trust and respect the very first time he sat at the weapons console."

Jean-Luc paused for several moments to collect his thoughts and memories of their time together. "I won't bore you with all the details of his service. What I will say is this; I served with Andrei for almost nine years before he was transferred to the Vigilant as its first officer. To this day, those who served with him and under him consider themselves truly priveleged. It is my hope that, in time, each of you will take something positive from his brief command of this ship and therefore preserve his memory. He may not have had any blood relatives anymore, but his Starfleet family will miss him dearly."

Picard nodded to Lieutenant Kelly and Ensign Bristol, who were standing at the far end of the casket. They reached down, removed the flag, and in following with the centuries old tradition, carefully folded it into a triangle. Instead of giving it to the nearest relative, Tom Kelly was instructed to simply hold it under his arm. It would be officially presented to Starfleet Command upon their return.

Picard straightened up and took another deep breath. "We now commit the body of Andrei Bolerov to the vastness of space and all its wonders and possibilities. May you finally have the peace you so desperately deserved." He took a step backwards to signal his conclusion.

Kirk turned to Kelly and nodded. Slowly, Tom walked over to the bay control panel. Turning back to Ensign Louis, he nodded again. The young ensign with the trumpet began to play Taps. Once Lieutenant Kelly reached the console, the giant domed doors of the shuttle bay opened; glowing blue lights around the periphery of the doors indicating a force field was in place. Beyond the doors was the black of space dotted with numerous stars flying away from them. Once Taps had concluded, Kelly tapped the button that released the catapult. The normally quick moving block began heading towards the open doors slowly, carrying the torpedo casket with it until, after several more seconds, the torpedo finally reached beyond the protection of the force field around the opening. Silently, it flung itself into space.

So passed Captain Andrei Alexandrovich Bolerov. 


	27. Chapter 27

The door control chimed merrily. "Come," Admiral Picard stated. The door to the guest quarters slid open with a hiss. Picard stood to greet his guest.

Commander Kirk stepped inside hesitantly. "You wanted to see me, Sir?" Stephen wasn't entirely certainly why Admiral Picard wanted to see him. His thoughts were still a jumbled mess of conflicting ideas, however, so logical conclusions or guesses would be a premium for awhile. This was a sentiment that was shared by many of the crew.

Picard waved him off. "Please... I'm off duty and you've now saved my life twice. Surely we can dispense with titles for now. Call me Jean-Luc." He motioned to the couch next to the chair he was sitting at. Between the two seats was an oval marble-looking table with a bottle of russian vodka and two glasses. "Sit down, Stephen,"

Thankful this was an informal visit, Stephen sat down with a tired smile. "Thanks, Jean-Luc." Stephen was still struggling for the right words to say. "Oh... and thanks for saying all those things during the service. I know I was supposed to be the..."

Picard interrupted him, sitting down and grabbing the bottle of vodka. "Think nothing of it. I was honored." He poured some vodka into the two glasses. "My biggest regret was not talking to him more recently than I did. I suppose that's a drawback to being in our business. We're scattered so far across the galaxy that it's difficult to keep in touch with the people we care most about... until it's too late." His memories drifted back to his brother, Robert, and his nephew, René, who died in a fire nine years ago. For all their posturing and pride, Jean-Luc waited until it was almost too late before restoring their relationship.

Stephen sat in bewilderment. Although he hadn't spent nearly as much time with Captain Bolerov as Admiral Picard, he just couldn't see how that man would have generated such camaraderie and loyalty. Still, it wasn't his place to judge. Besides, for all he knew, it was Stephen's criticisms that put him over the edge and caused him to commit suicide. That thought made Stephen sick.

Picard smiled. "You and he didn't quite get along, did you?" He handed Stephen a glass.

Stephen reached for the glass reluctantly. Although he had never had a drop of alchohol in his life, now would be a bad time to bring that up. "Well, not always..." he admitted.

Picard took the other glass and held it in his lap. "That's understandable." Jean-Luc struggled, once again, for the right words to say. He certainly didn't want the memories of his old friend to become clouded by what extraordinary circumstances turned him into. "The man you knew wasn't the man I knew. Do you know what happened to the Vigilant during the Dominion War?"

Kirk thought back for several moments, trying to recall anything of value. Finally, he just shook his head. "I know it was destroyed. That's about it."

Picard nodded. "You're right. It was." He sat back in the chair. "But, there's more to it than that. I read the mission report. It had taken catastophic damage. He ordered his crew to abandon ship. He stayed behind in an attempt to position the Vigilant between a Dominion cruiser and the escape pods. Andrei actually attempted to ram it, hoping he would destroy both ships. Unfortunately, the Dominion ship maneuvered away and sent one last volley at the Vigilant, rendering it a useless lump of metal with only partial battery power. Apparently, in retaliation for Andrei's actions, the Dominion ship targeted and destroyed every single escape pod. Andrei watched as his entire crew was killed, powerless to stop them. Andrei was eventually rescued; the only survivor of his ship. He was unconscious from suffocation and badly wounded. He spent two months in rehabilitation and six months in counseling. After that, he was given an administrative position at Starfleet Command. As I recall, he was part of the design committee for this ship."

Stephen was stunned. "I had no idea..." he eventually admitted.

Picard waved his hand again defensively. "I know. It wasn't publicized." He paused to sigh. "I never thought he'd see a captain's chair again. The last time I saw him was shortly after his physical rehabilitation. The incident had changed him... I couldn't quite put my finger on what had changed, but he wasn't the same man. He was himself, but more distant... detached. I was, regrettably, too entrenched in my own crisis to even consider what seeing the Dominion again might to do Andrei. Apparently, it was too much for him."

"So... that was it," Kirk thought. It had nothing to do with him at all. Now, he regretted not knowing the captain better. Now he realized that he missed out on knowing a possibly great person who just needed to learn to trust others again. "I wonder why they put him back in the captain's seat if he had already been through that," Stephen wondered aloud.

Picard shook his head. "I'm not certain, but I have my guesses."

"Is this why you asked me down?" Kirk asked thoughtfully.

"Partly," Jean-Luc answered with a smile. "I also felt like sharing a toast and some stories. I figured some tales of happier times might do us both good."

Stephen looked at the glass more optimistically. "I suppose I could drink to that," he offered.

"Excellent!" Picard announced. He raised his glass. Stephen raised his glass as well. "To Captain Bolerov... a great captain, a brilliant strategist, and a good friend." The clinked glasses and took a drink.

The drink burned going into Stephen's mouth and burned worse going down his throat. It felt as though he couldn't breathe. He coughed several times trying to get his breath back. "How could people DRINK this stuff?" he asked himself. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to cool his mouth.

Picard breathed in deeply and held it. "Well, it's not aldebran whiskey... but it's close enough. Andrei used to tell me that russian babies drank this in their bottles."

Still taking several deep breaths, Stephen finally added, "It'd take about that long to get a tolerance for it."

Picard smiled as he reclined in the overstuffed chair. "Now, let me share with you some stories about the REAL 'Crash' Bolerov..." 


End file.
